


turn these diamonds straight back into coal

by stormtongue



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bottom Loki (Marvel), Broken Families, Colonialism, Comfort/Angst, Friends to Lovers to Enemies to Lovers, Genocide, Hurt/Comfort, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Road Trips, Slow Burn, loki is a forest witch, mentioned odin/laufey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2019-10-05 15:02:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 93,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17327213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormtongue/pseuds/stormtongue
Summary: When a fatally-injured Thor stumbles onto Loki’s doorstep in the dead of night, Loki feels a strange compulsion to take him in. They’re brothers, though they’ve never met, and something greater than chance has brought them together. Secrets bleed out and ruin what peace Loki had before, but with the destruction of his quiet life comes the opportunity for them forge a better future, together.





	1. Chapter 1

There was a knocking at the door - a desperate knocking. Loki glanced up from his book, already annoyed. 

 

They would go away if he ignored it, he decided. They always do. One does not move to a small, musty cabin in the dark, dank woods because they wish for visitors. 

 

He looked back down. The firelight had grown dim on the tome in his hands, a collection of archaic spells and potions heretofore ignored in favor of more modern magics. It was at once painfully elementary and difficult to understand. But Loki was not one to waste the little he had to do out here, and the thick yellowed pages were a tangible sort of company. 

 

_ -thud thud thud thud- _

 

The sound was much harder this time. A pounding, more so than a knock, and  _ very _ rude. Loki briefly considered cursing this meddlesome visitor with one of the more sinister spells written underneath his wry fingers. 

 

Or he could ignore it and hope they would give up. He extinguished the fireplace. The coolness of moonlight seeping in through the dusty windowpanes provided a brief respite from the throbbing headache behind his eyes. 

 

A final thump. Then silence.

 

Loki sighed, then resigned to at least see who had wandered into these haunted woods and passed out on his doorstep. How they would do that when he lived so far away from the nearest settlement, he didn’t know, but perhaps it was a product of the war. Or a new mead hall had suddenly set up shop nearby without checking whether nearby inhabitants were accepting of it. Either way, it was a strange occurrence, and enough to pique his curiosity. He set the book down and wandered to the door, floorboards creaking below his bare feet. 

 

He prepared an insult in case this intruder was still conscious, then turned the brass handle.

 

Loki tried not to be taken aback. He was not one to scare easily. But the figure slumped on the gravel appeared to be more pooled blood and shredded skin than living being.

 

A tingle ran from his neck down to his gut and Loki knew that he had a choice. Kill this man… this thing… now, and put it out of its misery. Do it the kindness that, obviously, battle had not. 

 

Or take him in. 

 

The tendons in Loki’s arms jumped nervously as his hands balled into fists. The poor, disgusting thing had managed to make it here… had managed to make his arms work well enough to pound on the door… perhaps this was the perfect opportunity to try out all those healing spells and life elixirs Loki had read so much of.

 

The creature heaved, trying to draw breath from the sodden ground. The scant light filtering through the trees glanced upon its blood, blackening it and casting every lesion and wound into ominous shadow. Loki heard a wet choke and saw its fingers curl around the precipice. 

 

Somehow, it lifted its head. 

 

Loki knew then that this thing now belonged to him.

* * *

 

 

“You’re awake.”

 

“H-how-” The man was lucky that the word was an easy one to distinguish coughed through blood-soaked lungs. 

 

Twelve hours had passed. Loki leaned against the counter in the kitchen area of the one-roomed cabin, arms crossed, but had the boy relegated to the ground, lying on a makeshift bed of towels by the fire, not wanting to sully his things with the man’s gore. 

 

A broken leg with the bone visible. An arm nearly bared of skin. A hole blown through his center, rimmed with black corrosion. Tanned skin stained red and black and green, blonde hair once gleaming rendered muck-sodden and dull. Unassuming, cheap soldier’s armor that had clearly done him little good, stripped off him and discarded to the side. And blue eyes, brighter than the glimpses of sky Loki sometimes saw through the canopy of trees.

 

“You came for help, I presume. I helped you,” Loki said. His gaze flicked back and forth over the darkened bandages from man’s various wounds. Even through the blackness, a sickly green sheen filtered through, though not from rot.

 

The man rolled his head back, eyelids fluttering as he tried to make sense of Loki’s words. He started to lift his arms - to finger at the wound still open and angry in his gut, no doubt - but they didn’t seem to obey him. He opened his mouth, too, but words wouldn’t come.

 

Frankly, Loki was surprised he was awake at all. The sedatives in his veins were enough to induce a week-long coma in a lesser man.

 

And this torn and broken body gracing Loki’s isolated cabin floor was barely a man at all. He seemed almost a boy - a hundred years old, at most. No older than Loki himself, he would bet. Somehow managing to stay awake against the strength of the drug and the horrors his body had fallen victim to.

 

Loki exhaled a humorless laugh as the boy’s eyes thudded closed once more, and he succumbed to the fight burning its way through his flesh. And then the only thing left moving within the confines of Loki’s home was his pulse hammering -  _ thud, thud, thud, thud  _ \- at a lightning pace under the fragile skin of his wrist which had somehow held truer than it had elsewhere.

 

Loki glanced outside, wondering if more of these half-dead men were coming. He knew the realm was at war; hadn’t it always been, though? He wasn’t privy to all the latest updates, and he was glad of it. He was not a hermit, and Odin always told him whatever he deemed important for a bastard son to know. The few visits he welcomed each year were more than enough.

 

Not a hermit. Just a boy who lived alone in the woods.

 

No, Loki just enjoyed his own company. And anyway, one stops trying to fit in after a lifetime of being unwanted. With that same lifetime being filled fully with war, isolation was preferable to any half-hearted attempts towards love.

 

He shook off that thought; he had dwelled on it enough. Instead, he searched out the window between the mossy trees, praying that the battle would never reach him. If the brutes could keep their petty squabbles to the barren fields, far away from him… that would be nice.

 

Nothing stirred, though, not in this place with no wind. The only animals who lived here slept deeply and often. Even in the daylight, this forest never seemed fresh. It was a damp, rotting thing, and Loki knew it better than his own body. If anything was out of place, he would feel it.

 

He reached out with his magic, sensing the land around. But the only interloper was this boy, alone, dying, and entirely reliant on Loki. 

 

It wasn’t difficult to imagine what had happened. He’d been felled in battle - over and over again, it seemed - and left for dead as the armies packed up and moved on. He had woken up to a cemetery of friends and foes alike, with crows the only living creatures keeping him company.  _ Well _ , Loki thought,  _ at least this one is a friend.  _ Or more of a friend than his enemies would be, at least.

 

A thought slithered into Loki’s gut. Would he have taken him in if the boy’s skin were blue? If he were twice as tall, crimson-eyed, as sharp and harsh and thorny as the icy ridges that formed like mountain ranges on his skin?

 

He shook his head of the question, thinking instead of more present matters. It was nigh unbelievable that the boy had managed to make it into this forest. It would be strange even if he were not injured so. He certainly had a will to live. Who was Loki to deny him that right?

 

Loki swallowed hard, and felt a new feeling.

 

No longer afraid of more visitors, he straightened abruptly, moving to the workbench to begin another tincture that might speed the regeneration of lost flesh. This was strange, this taking care of another. Entirely novel. He had never even imagined doing such a thing.

 

His hands worked and his mind wandered. For what did this mean for the war at large? The frost-giants were more than formidable.  _ Dangerous _ was itself a dangerous understatement. But they were few in numbers, and the Asgardian soldiers whom they fought were not too fragile themselves. It had been going on for so long now that it was a wonder any of them had a will to fight anymore, but Loki knew that his own opinions on such matters as  _ bravery _ and  _ justice _ were shared by few. 

 

Maybe this was more of an isolated incident. This boy’s fate might not be indicative of the tide. 

 

Not that Loki cared, anyway. He didn’t care for Asgard much at all. But he thought he might like it even less under a giant’s rule.

 

He added the last ingredients to the goblet, a grand dollop of honey and the root of  _ Azadirachta indica _ , and whispered a song that the plants inside might strengthen the boy. It wasn’t magic, not truly. But it seemed like the right thing to do.

 

He tiptoed to the fire where his charge lay and felt the exhaustion settle into his bones. Even when Loki had tried, sleep refused to grace him the previous night. He knelt and brushed the hair off the boy’s brow, moving his head so that the liquid might drain down his throat even while unconscious. 

 

An unease ran through Loki, but this could be easily explained. This boy was the first person, save Odin, that he had seen in years. Of course Loki might be uncomfortable sharing his loneliness thuswise.

 

And yet he couldn’t look away, and he certainly couldn’t dump him back out on the doorstep. The boy’s eyelids were shut, but Loki thought he could still see the sharpness of blue peeking out from underneath. He drained the tincture between his swollen lips.

 

He wanted to do more - to fret, to start at the boy’s every twitch and breath, and worry over him until he was healed enough to leave. Would there be a simple spell to sew bone back together and clothe bared flesh in skin again. 

 

Loki set his jaw and shivered slightly. He shouldn’t be doing any of this at all. He owed this boy nothing, and here he was, wasting his limited store of potion ingredients and magical energy upon him. Would Odin be ashamed of him for it, or proud?

 

He stepped away and tried to determine a course of action. Unable to decide upon anything that felt right, Loki sat with his back resting against the wooden store-cabinet, still within reach if the boy were to wake and need him, but far enough away for comfort.

 

* * *

 

Strangely, his doze was unperturbed. His spine was stiff and his shoulders sore from napping in such a position, but a humid sense of calm had settled into the forest. Its tendrils had wrapped around Loki’s bones as he slept and he felt as stilled as he’d been in years. 

 

His eyes creaked open and he was suddenly very aware that his metaphorical musings about vines and creeping things were much more literal than he even knew.

 

The boy was still asleep - Loki thought so, at least - but he’d somehow rolled over, closer to Loki, and a hand, much too large for such a young thing, rested on Loki’s own forearm. It felt warm and prickly. Loki shook it off, affronted. He was fine with helping out a dying boy, fine with opening his home to someone who desperately needed it, but he was decidedly  _ not _ fine with his personal space being invaded. 

 

He stood quickly, glancing quickly outside and then to the clock, which told him that only two hours had passed. 

 

“Nnnghh…” the boy groaned.

 

Loki’s annoyance returned. The boy’s outstretched hand grasped around, searching for Loki’s settling presence.

 

And there was nothing there. The boy sat abruptly, blinking hard. “Th-thank you,” he said. 

 

Almost grudgingly, Loki admitted that he looked far better than the day before. Far better than he should look at all, actually, considering that his fate should’ve been death.

 

Loki sat at his small workdesk, busying himself with looking over the strictly academic notes he’d taken on the boy’s injuries and condition. He added a new entry -  _ Monday, 4pm, awake, stable. _

 

“How do you feel?” It was still strange for Loki to hear his own voice and be able to expect a response.

 

“Bad.”

 

Another note -  _ bitchy, complains of pain.  _ “Be grateful you can feel anything at all.” Loki wasn’t quite sure why he was suddenly so irksome.

 

“Are you a… a healer? Or something?”

 

“No.”  _ Inconsolably dull. _

 

Loki heard him struggle to get up, then gasp in pain again and fall back onto the floor. 

 

“Am I going to live?”

 

“I don’t know,” Loki answered.

 

The boy sighed huffily and Loki couldn’t help but look back at him. He’d need new bandages soon and though Loki wasn’t about to help him with it, a bath. The cabin usually smelled of lavender and maple and now it stunk of curdling blood and acid. 

 

The boy laid back, but kept his head turned towards Loki. His eyes still had that spark of spirit. “Who are you, anyway?”

 

Loki rested his elbow on the desk and looked away. “It’s none of your business, but since I can tell you’ll keep bothering me about it, you can call me Loki.”

 

“Well met, Loki. I’d shake your hand, but I think most of those bones are still broken, so…” he trailed off. His voice was deeper and more assured than any boy who’d only just come of age should sound.

 

“Hmph.”

 

“Don’t you want to know who I am?” the boy said defiantly. A strange thing to say defiantly, Loki thought. 

 

“Not particularly.” In fact, Loki didn’t think he’d been less interested in anything in his life. This interloper was beginning to  _ really _ wear on him, and the closer they became, the less he would want to leave once his legs worked again.

 

The boy didn’t respond for a full minute. Apparently, he was not used to being ignored.

 

Finally, he seemed to give up on piquing Loki’s interest. “I’m Thor. Son of Odin.”

 

Loki’s lip curled and he wrote two more words to his growing observation notes on this boy.  _ Poor liar. _

 

“What’re you writing?” he asked.

 

“Notes.”

 

“You don’t say much, do you.”

 

“I say plenty. Maybe you just aren’t that interesting to talk to.”

 

The boy bristled; Loki heard the air gush from his lungs. “Thanks. If you’re so angry with me, why keep me here at all? You could’ve left me for dead.”

 

“You’re making me wish more and more that I had.”

 

“Then do. Toss me out.” His body softened. “They’ll probably find me soon anyway,” he added in a quiet voice.

 

Loki didn’t respond. He knew the boy wished for nothing more than his attention. 

 

“I do feel better,” the boy said, resolve seemingly growing again. “I… I don’t know what you did. Or how I made it here. It’s kind of… a blur, but… something came over me. A force that was not from my body.”

 

Loki laughed. 

 

“I’m serious!” he argued, then groaned from the strain of speaking with such conviction. “It was something beyond me that brought me here. I suppose the Norns aren’t okay with me dying yet.”

 

“Why do you think the Norns care about you?”

 

“I’m a prince. That might mean something to them.”

 

Keeping up his little lie, then. Loki knew of the prince. Odin tried not to speak of him, but Loki knew. “You’re not a prince.”

 

“How would you know? What are you, anyway?” His temper was rising; the room buzzed. “What’s a lonely hermit boy like yourself got over the prince of Asgard? Who are you to tell me --  _ cough _ \-- that I --  _ cough, cough,” _

 

Loki jerked back around. The boy’s coughs were full of blood. The small droplets showered the light-wood floorboards like a summer storm. Loki suddenly felt very angry with himself.

 

He set his jaw, got up to grab a large vial of pain reliever, and muttered more spells of soothing. He shoved it into the boy’s outstretched hand, and he took it greedily, but stopped himself before it reached his mouth. 

 

“No,” he coughed once more. This one was empty of blood.

 

“You need it. You said you were better, but you’re not fine. You won’t be fine.” Loki’s voice had grown rough. He heard birdsong outside the window. 

 

“I know, I-I want to feel it.”

 

Loki rolled his eyes. Such a  _ noble _ thing to do, to feel pain unnecessarily. “Fine. Your choice. Remind yourself of that when I start picking the rot from your organs.”

 

This seemed to scare him. It was a lie. Loki was skilled enough to stave off the worst of any infection. 

 

“I have to go,” Loki said. “I’m running low on some of the herbs you desperately need. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

 

“And if I die while you’re gone?”

 

“Don’t do that,” Loki said with a grin, and gave him one last look before leaving.

 

* * *

 

Loki hadn’t lied about needing more herbs to care for the boy, but on a more real note, he had. He also needed time alone, and walking among these storied trees always had a way of restoring his strength when he felt weary. He could also examine the battlefield, check for any other soldiers still alive, and gather something more substantial for dinner. There were plenty of tasks this sort of life required.

 

But he also just needed time away from the needy thing. And this was the more pressing matter at hand when the boy was still too broken to get up.

 

It was warmer outside than it should’ve been for November, so Loki left his furry cloak hanging by the door and set out armed with only a scarf to fend off the slight chill. He wished that it would snow soon.

 

What couldn’t be grown in the messy garden of sorts scattered around his cabin could be found a few miles away at most. It was wet enough here for plants to grow on other plants, and the one he needed most liked to make its home on the tops of the trees. It must’ve looked out of place there - a sun-yellow mushroom sprouting a hundred feet above the forest floor from the cracked bark of old pines. Loki usually asked a bird to fetch one for him, and they generally agreed.

 

He began his trek down the little hill to the stream to collect fat mountain-snails and red crayfish that he liked to eat when he grew tired of vegetables. Which he wasn’t, presently, but the boy would need protein to build his strength back up. 

 

The jubilant sound of the stream cut through the silent forest. Loki stopped at its rocky bank and had the unusual desire to stick his face in the freezing water. Instead, he settled for his hands, and collected the night’s dinner. 

 

And then he moved along. To the edges of the woods, where the bright grey light of fading autumn warmed his skin. His stomach gurgled, but he didn’t think hunger was its cause. 

 

A loud  _ caw  _ from above signaled the arrival of a raven - his favorite one - and he looked up to see the great beast laden with two of the sky-mushrooms. Loki caught them and smiled; he hadn’t even asked. He put them into his magical pack, and swallowed hard before stepping out of the dark safety of the trees for the bare field.

 

At first, he didn’t see much. The grass was unkempt and matted, but the wind gusts had stuck it back up in places, as if the ground itself had shivered and grown goosebumps. It was stained red and blue and black in places, like the boy’s skin, and Loki wished to run back into the forest and away from this cemetery. But he needed to know.

 

He stepped forward and with the movement reached out magically, searching for signs of life. He felt nothing; even the crows had gone, leaving the maggots to feast in festering rotted flesh in peace. As he looked down, he began to see bodies. Bodies big and small, but mostly small, at least in a relative sense. This was not a hallowed day for the Aesir.

 

Poorly the battle had gone, then. As he already suspected. He reeled back in the fibers of magic creeping over the battlefield. His eyes began to adjust to the bleakness around; seeing was enough, he could not bear the burden of  _ feeling  _ where nothingness filled the bodies, too. And still he carried on -

 

more, and more, and

 

\- too many. Jotun and Aesir dead alike sickened Loki, and he decided he’d seen enough. This was a great loss. That was all anybody needed to know. He stepped away, thinking of how all of this would affect him. He knew it was foolish to pretend that war stopped where battle ended.

 

_ “They’ll probably find me soon anyway”... _ Loki hoped that the boy had meant his family, and not some errant frost-giant hunting parties searching out every Asgardian to eliminate. 

 

Of course, if the boy really  _ was _ a prince, the entire realm would be looking. Odin would  _ not _ be terribly happy if he found out Loki was harboring a fugitive. The most important fugitive in the Nine Realms, probably. Loki’s half-brother. 

 

Well, Loki thought, if bastards are even allowed to name such connections. Even a bastard son of a king is still a bastard, and if Loki has no name, he has no brothers, either. 

 

He thoughtlessly walked back home, pulling roots and cutting flowers as he went. 


	2. Chapter 2

Loki handed the boy a gently steaming cup. He had given him more medicine and changed his bandages, and now this seemed like the right thing to do.

 

“What’s this going to do to me?” Thor asked.

 

“It’s just tea.”

 

Evening had come quickly, even if the daylight wasn’t quite ready to give up its intrusion down into the woods. The cabin was now filled with the pleasing smells of shellfish and vegetables baking in butter and garlic. Loki knew it seemed too kind to cook his fugitive a meal, let alone such a nice one, but he was growing overtired of the scent of blood in the air.

 

“Thank you.” Thor took a great hearty sip and didn’t seem to mind the scalding temperature. He was even sitting up comfortably now, or at least enough to look at Loki instead of at the ceiling.

 

Loki opened the oven door to check if their meal was finished. Normally he wouldn’t waste so much of the sun-mushrooms on it, but their efficacy in healing was matched only by their taste, and he deserved a treat after doing so much good in one day.

 

_ Not done. _ They had only been in for a couple minutes.

 

He turned back around, blowing little waves over the surface of his own tea. “So.  _ Thor _ .” The use of the boy’s name was enough to earn a suspicious glance from him. “When are you going to tell me why you are  _ here _ and not safe and unhurt in your daddy’s palace?” Loki still didn’t believe him about his identity, but it would be entertaining, at least, to hear what he could make up.

 

“He doesn’t know I’m here. Doesn’t know I snuck out.”

 

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Odin. Doesn’t know something. I find that a little hard to believe.”

 

“You say that like you know him,” Thor said.

 

“Oh, I’ve heard of him. I’ve heard enough, I think.”

 

Thor matched Loki, blonde eyebrow inching up his now-clean forehead. “Why do you live out here, anyway?”

 

Loki knew to expect the question, but he hadn’t yet decided how much he felt like sharing. “I prefer to. I grew up with a family, but they weren’t  _ truly  _ my family, and they never felt like much to me. So I left.” 

 

Thor’s face twisted into something Loki hated - something that said,  _ I’m so sorry, you must feel awful about it, you deserve my pity.  _ “That’s no way to live.”

 

“It is, actually. Would it be better to continue down a road neither me nor those people wanted?” Loki spared little thought for his time before the cabin, and preferred to say as little about the other people as possible.

 

“Those people? Aren’t they your parents?”

 

Loki pressed his lips together but didn’t think he should give Thor a clear answer. “I never cared for them, and they knew something was wrong with me. It would’ve been worse for me to pretend otherwise.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Thor said. “And… er… I’m sorry for burdening you.”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

Thor smiled slightly. “I believe you. If it wasn’t fine, I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

 

“I can still kick you out.”

 

“You won’t.” The words struck Loki; they were almost indubitably bold coming from this boy. “Can you keep a secret? I shouldn’t tell you,” he confessed. A smile played around the corners of his mouth, one he couldn’t decide whether or not to indulge. “But I feel like I owe you something.”

 

Loki smiled sarcastically, though he knew Thor wouldn’t think it anything other than sweet. It worked; Thor swallowed, choosing his words. Gaining trust was  _ far _ too easy with some people.

 

“Heimdall… There was a break-in. They made it past the guards.” There was no question as to who  _ they _ were. “I don’t know how Heimdall didn’t see it coming. But…” he trailed off, the distress in his voice was unmistakable, though it had settled in so quickly. He bore the weight of someone who had incurred a close personal tragedy but hadn’t quite worked through it yet. “Heimdall was blinded. He’s still alive, but he can’t see everything, now. He can barely see what’s right in front of him.”

 

Loki turned around to check the oven, again, to hide the knitting of his brows. His heart was positively leaping with excitement. The All-Seer. Seeing no more.

 

Looking away was not enough to render him ignorant of Thor’s quiet sob. “So… he couldn’t see me leave. Loki, you… you don’t know how hard it was. But they just don’t understand. I don’t want to sit on a throne while my people die for me. I wanted to fight. I wanted to lead them. I thought I was ready, I thought-”

 

“Food’s ready,” Loki interjected. He pulled it out of the oven and set it on the table, doling out portions for Thor and himself. He was glad to have something to do with his hands. 

 

He smoothed his face and looked down. Thor looked awful. Puffy-eyed and sniffly and shivering. Loki gave the plate to him, hoping he was healed up well enough to feed himself by this point. If he was well enough to cry, he should be well enough to eat.

 

“Hope you like it,” Loki said. “There might be much more of it on the way. I’m still not sure when you’ll be healed enough to leave. Your legs are just beginning to mend. That will take much longer than a simple matter of cuts and bruises.”

 

“And… where they stabbed me?”

 

Loki had almost forgotten about that. “Right. That was easier than you’d think. Now, eat. I’m powerful, but I can’t help your body if it won’t help itself.”

 

Thor nodded quickly, tucking into the meal. Loki had added something extra to it. Just to help the boy sleep. Not letting him in on it wasn’t sinister or anything.

 

“So, Heimdall. Blinded, you said?” It was callous to ask, Loki knew, but this was too juicy a tidbit to ignore. Loki could do a lot with the knowledge that Heimdall wouldn’t see any of his actions.

 

Thor swallowed a massive bite of snail. “Mm. Father was furious. I’ve never seen him like that.” He took another bite, and continued talking through it. “It was hard for me, too. Heimdall is my friend. Maybe he wouldn’t say the same back, but… mm. This is good. Thank you.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“It was the opportunity I needed. I knew I couldn’t sneak out before. They would find me and bring me back. Chain me to the throne, if they had to.”

 

If Thor was making this up, Loki decided, he might actually have something interesting sitting beneath the golden hair and thick skull. Obviously, Loki wouldn’t believe him about Heimdall without further proof, but he never thought such a thing was even possible. Heimdall, blinded! Loki, free!

 

Thor again interrupted his internal celebration. “So I left with the other boys. Disguised myself just enough, stole some armor, and a cheap sword, and look how much good it all did me.”

 

Loki looked down, almost pitying him. Thor had finished eating rather too quickly, and wore the cracked look of someone torn between contentment and sourness. 

 

Thor sighed. “And I always thought I was ready. I didn’t have any sort of special powers, like Father, or Mother, or… you, I guess. But I wanted it anyway. All the other boys could go and fight at my age. I trained just as hard as any of them. Harder, really. I was better than all of them. Stronger, and faster, and I always seemed to predict where the next blow would come before it struck.”

 

“Sometimes luck is the most skilled of us all.”

 

“You’re right,” Thor said, and looked up at Loki. The sleeping herbs were obviously kicking in, and Loki wanted to laugh at the expression he saw. “Because… I’m-I’m… here…” he trailed off. The plate slid off his bandaged torso, and his head fell back as he succumbed to sleep.

 

Loki frowned, and realized that he’d believed Thor before the boy had actually started his story, internal monologue be damned. He got up and picked up their plates automatically, preoccupied with Thor’s tale and the valuable information he’d divulged. Luck  _ had _ certainly smiled upon them. Or maybe Thor would prefer to say it was the Norns.

 

Outside, the trees rustled as if struck with an unscratchable itch. Over the soft din of Thor’s breathing, Loki began to hear the smooth slide of gentle rain down pine needles, striking the puddles on the forest floor like a massive xylophone. He finished washing the dishes and stared out the window over the sink until the last trace of daylight packed up and left.

 

All the while, the rain grew stronger. Even over the lingering smells of cooking, the scent of clean water opening up the forest floor filled his nose. It was exceedingly pleasant.

 

_ Crrrack. _

 

Thunder split the air and nearly made Loki leap. He reflexively turned his gaze toward Thor - still asleep. Soundly, too. 

 

Another flash of lightning lit the cabin and Loki suddenly felt the exhaustion of the last few days overwhelming him. The embers in the fireplace decided that they, too, had had enough of this day, and soon the erratic glow of the sky was the only thing casting shadows over the strange cabinmates. Loki undressed, burrowed into his bed, and pulled the downy covers tight over his shoulders. He had never been so excited to sleep in his life. 

 

* * *

 

Loki awoke gently. The air was cold, but held a sort of momentum. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and stretched, glancing at the clock. The second hand was no longer ticking. It seemed to have stopped shortly after midnight.

 

Despite their dinner, a hunger had come over Loki in the night, as if his magic had suddenly decided it needed to eat, too. He looked over to Thor, still sprawled out over the towels and huddled blankets. How long had it been? Ten hours? Twelve hours? And still he slept.

 

Loki got up and put the kettle on, making a mental note to take it off just before it boiled so that it wouldn’t wake his charge. He crept across the room to warm his hands by the fireplace, whispering a spell to light just enough of a fire to ward off the harshest of the autumn chill.

 

But his magic betrayed him; a few flames this was not: a great fire erupted through the fireplace, billowing up the chimney and nearly catching Thor’s blankets. Coils of flame leapt joyfully through the air and… something was not right, Loki knew. Hurriedly, he extinguished the entire thing. 

 

He patted off the lingering sparks from Thor’s prone body and cursed quietly, though he was grateful to have somehow not woken him. To his surprise, the boy, too, seemed to have grown without his intention. His scabs had all disappeared and his skin seemed to glow slightly with dozing vitality. Even his muscles seemed slightly bigger than they were before. 

 

Loki stepped back quickly, frowning. 

 

There was no way this wasn’t connected, Loki decided. One storm hits, they sleep for an unreasonably long time, and suddenly two boys wake up stronger than before? He could almost laugh, if it weren’t so convenient. It was as if they were in a fairy tale, one of the ones that Loki had read so much as a child when he still lived with that  _ other _ family. Things like this - magical, overnight transformations - didn’t just happen. Maybe Odin  _ did _ know Thor was here, and he was playing some sort of strangely-kind joke on them. It would be deeply out of character, of course, but people change.

 

Loki did actually laugh at that thought. The idea of Odin changing at all, after living so long, was absolutely impossible.

 

Instead, he decided to take this in stride. Maybe he’d even pretend to Thor that it was all his doing - that had the potential to be advantageous to him. 

 

Pleased that Thor was likely going to be fine now without much more of his assistance, Loki stepped outside to see what else this strange phenomenon had wrought. And nearly slipped on the fine layer of ice that had spread after the storm had frozen over in the cold of the morning. He caught himself on the railing of the little porch and was amazed to find that his entire sense of touch had changed. Somehow, even encased in ice, it didn’t feel cold. Just… comforting, and pleasant, and familiar...

 

Intoxicated with the feeling of an unknown power, he reached out with his magic again. But no longer was it merely a way to check on the higher life forms, living and dead. Rather, its touch had changed. His reach had grown in breadth and depth: every animal, yes, but also the plants, the mosses and mold growing underfoot, the bacteria, maybe even each atom existing in this forest buzzed and glowed under his magical sight. Some details were cloudy, but the extent of it was so grand. It was nearly too much. 

 

But… it was also beautiful… and he felt so powerful, seeing it all…

 

The feeling surged, almost painfully, at the edges of his vision. He shook himself and focused on it.

 

_ No… _ a real intruder, this time. Someone in his forest… he focused harder…

 

Not someone. Odin.

 

Odin was coming. Odin was coming to visit his bastard son for the first time in a year. While his missing other child slumbered peacefully within Loki’s house.

 

Loki drew himself out of the sight and rushed back inside.

 

* * *

 

Concentrating hard on what to do, Loki collected himself and made a decision. He hoped it would be enough - wise though he pretended to be, Odin wasn’t the most powerful magician (certainly not like Freyja, or even Loki himself), and Loki knew he at least had a  _ chance _ to hide Thor from him. Probably better than a chance, now that his prowess had suddenly grown so. It would be a complicated spell to hide Thor from sight, sound, and touch, but if what Loki had experienced outside extrapolated to every outlet of his seidr, it would be doable.

 

He cast each spell of obfuscation in succession, pleased when they all worked like a charm. The slumbering body in front of his darkened fireplace faded from the senses perfectly. Loki could walk through Thor’s shape as if he were a ghost. No, not even that. Even more insubstantial. As if he had never been there at all. 

 

Hopefully, this wouldn’t impact the boy or his progress healing too much. Becoming nothing likely wasn’t the best way for one to regain their strength.

 

But wait… why was Loki bothering to hide him at all? They had made no promises on anything of this sort, or even on where Thor would go once he was able to walk. Home, or elsewhere? Would he stay with Loki? Thor didn’t even know of their kinship... And Odin might already know that he was here. This  _ could _ be an opportunity for Loki to rid himself of a problem with grace and dignity. Maybe he would even get a  _ thanks _ . 

 

By choosing to hide him, though, Loki was choosing a lie. And Odin would not be happy if he saw through it.

 

Loki smirked and ran his hands through his hair, trying to make himself look somewhat presentable. The concept of Odin being angry with him was enough for Loki to know that he was doing the right thing. He took a deep breath to steel himself and sat at the desk, opening a book so he’d look busy. With luck, Thor wouldn’t wake until after Odin left. 

 

Loki preferred not to think of what would happen if Thor did wake.

 

As expected, Odin didn’t knock. Loki heard his key turning in the lock and tried very hard to suppress his anxiety.

 

Odin did look worse for wear, though perhaps kinder-faced than Loki had seen him in a while. The wrinkles around his eyepatch were a little deeper than Loki had last seen and his back was rather hunched. 

 

“Loki,” he said.

 

“Odin.” Loki stood. “Would you care for a cup of tea?”

 

“No.”  _ Always so blunt. _ “I won’t be here long.”

 

Loki offered his father the other chair and sat back down so they faced each other across the wooden table. “How very nice to see you. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Loki knew Odin would hear the deep-seated sarcasm. There was little love between Odin and his almost-abandoned bastard. And yet Odin had managed to sneak away from Freyja to come see him… was he missing Loki, or did he need something?

 

Odin sat straight-backed and stiff. “I’m sure you have heard tales of the war. And how it is progressing in recent years.”

 

“And who would I hear those from.” Loki made a point to end his sentence without any hint of question.

 

“Do not jest with me. I told you I have little time.”

 

Loki tried very hard not to roll his eyes. “Yes, I’ve heard. Why does it concern me?”

 

He expected to see a rising anger in Odin at his reductive sentiment, but still Odin expressed no emotion at all. On the bright side, Loki was almost positive that the man had no idea Thor was here.

 

“I have need of you.”

 

“The answer is no.”

 

“Did I ask your opinion?”

 

“No. Don’t care. The answer is still no. I’m not helping you, I’m not helping them. I’m staying out of this. Like I always have. You know better than to ask me.” His voice grew louder with each assertion. Loki wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt so incensed, not to mention concerned, about it all. Odin knew the depths of Loki’s detachment. The fact that Loki cared all must seem out of place to his father.

 

Odin breathed a tiny sigh. “I knew it would come to this. Would you prefer me to take you by force-”

 

“Oh, so you’ve brought armed guards? That’s sweet-”

 

“-or must I prove your dedication to our cause?” Odin finished.

 

Loki, normally so good at hiding his emotions, suddenly felt his face reacting confusedly against his will.  _ Prove  _ it to him? Prove what? Loki had no skin in this war. He had proven time and time again that he had no reason to care. Hel, Odin had proven it for him when he’d sent him away.

 

“I’ll take it that you prefer the latter,” Odin said coldly. “I had never planned to tell you this. I did not think it would be relevant, and I knew it would only cause you pain.”

 

Loki went to great lengths to ensure that his face revealed nothing but boredom.

 

Odin sat forward slightly, face tilted downwards, as if he were about to regurgitate something. “Did you ever wonder who your mother was, Loki?”

 

“Obviously I did.” Loki was growing impatient and starting to worry whether Thor had awoken already. This seemed like it would be a rather personal conversation, and he wasn’t sure he wanted Thor to hear it. Why, why didn’t he give Thor more sleeping medicine… he hadn’t even thought of it...

 

“Whatever you might’ve guessed, you were wrong.”

 

Loki sneered. How did  _ he _ know that for sure?   
  


“In fact, you don’t have a mother at all, but another father,” Odin said plainly.

 

_ Another… father?  _ Loki thought this might be some sort of joke - a cruel gesture referring to Loki’s affection towards other boys that Odin hadn’t taken to so well when Loki had told him. Instead of hurt, though, Loki tried to look disbelieving. “And how does that work?”

 

Odin swallowed and looked at the floor. It was strange. He actually looked  _ affected _ by something, for once. “Do you know what started this war, Loki?”

 

“Land disagreements? An assassination? I don’t know. It’s been going on so long that I don’t even know what it’s over.”

 

“No. A hundred years ago, I made a mistake. One that Freyja never forgave me for, and never will.” He paused, and let out a deep sigh. “I had an affair. But it was not with a prostitute or tavern wench.”

 

Loki deeply wished he’d made the tea, if only for himself.

 

“Laufey, King of Jotunheim, and I… we were once lovers.”

 

Loki snorted hard at the absurdity. The concept of his noble, infinitely wise father having an affair with not only a man, not only a frost-giant, but the leader of their enemy realm was unimaginable. The  _ gall _ of him to joke with Loki in this way.

 

Odin, however, actually looked hurt at Loki’s reaction. “You don’t believe me. At first, I did not believe that it had happened. I could not tell Freyja, either. I was on a diplomatic visit and something came over me. I suppose I saw in him a kindred spirit that I had never before opened myself to accepting.”

 

“And then you did,” Loki said. He still didn’t believe any of this.

 

“I did not regret it until I learned of his pregnancy.”

 

The cabin suddenly felt very still; absolved of any comfort, Loki felt himself starting to sweat. He knew that Jotuns could fall pregnant regardless of their appearance as massive, fearsome sorts of men, but the king himself allowing that to happen? And what Odin was implying…

 

“He wished to keep you. I visited Jotunheim again after you were born. And you… it was clear that you did not wish to stay.”

 

Loki continued glaring at him.

 

“You skin shifted. You took to me. Laufey was furious. But I… I could not leave you there. It was so obvious that you wished to come with me. Maybe I was a selfish old man imagining things. But my love for you was stronger than what fleeting love I had held for him.”

 

Loki’s mind seemed to foster only an indiscernible buzzing. It had blinded his thoughts and was now attacking his emotions.

 

“So… I am…” Loki struggled to get the words out. Each one felt toxic.

 

“Half-Jotun. You hold the blood of both realms.”

 

And the hammer dropped. Like Thor before him, Loki suddenly realized that he had started believing Odin before he had finished speaking. He looked down and saw that his hands were shaking.

 

“By all rational means, it was a mistake to take you. Freyja would not keep you, and Laufey started a war over you. I could not have made a more terrible decision. But I could not leave you, either.”

 

“And t-that’s why you sent me away?”

 

Odin looked up at him. Loki had never seen his father cry, and knew he never would. But he looked about as close as one could be. “Aye. I never abandoned you, but hear me. If I could have, you would have grown up alongside Thor, as my true and beloved son.”

 

Loki’s stomach clenched. “Wh-what of Thor?”

 

“Did you ever wonder why I said so little of him? He was born just days before you were. I left an ailing Freyja and our newborn son to return to Jotunheim and take you. I wanted nothing more than for the two of you to grow up as brothers. But it could never be.”

 

Loki closed his eyes. He felt a storm welling within him. The tiniest, if strange, fraction of peace that hearing his true parentage instilled in him was fading quickly. “And what is your point in telling me all this?”

 

“You are to join me. To assist me in making peace with Jotunheim,” Odin said.

 

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

 

“I will tell you what you need to know.” Odin’s voice had grown stern. He sounded more like Loki’s father than he had in years. Perhaps he did not want Loki to know that Thor was missing, or that Heimdall was blinded. 

 

And meanwhile, the storm was growing fiercer, kicking up fragments of anger left over from Loki’s childhood and blustering around all his hurt.

 

“I don’t believe you. You… you want me to kill him, don’t you?” Loki wasn’t sure where that idea had come from, but as he spoke it, he knew it was true. Why else would Odin have not made this peace  _ years _ earlier? “You want  _ me _ to help you take revenge on your… your former  _ lover _ ?  _ My _ other  _ parent _ ? Are you out of your mind?

 

“I don’t want you to. You will. You have king’s blood, Loki.  _ Two _ kings’ blood. You can end this war.”

 

“No, you mean I can sacrifice myself and  _ you _ can end it. No. I haven’t changed my mind. Get out.” The last words were a restrained bellow.

 

Odin stood. “Pack your things. I will be back tomorrow morning.” And he exited even more quietly than he had come.


	3. Chapter 3

Odin might’ve left calmly, but Loki was nothing of the sort. He stormed up from his seat, slamming the door behind his father and working himself into a rage which had no rational target.

 

So, instead, he stood there fuming.

 

_ Son of Laufey…. Son of Odin…  _ and Loki wanted to be son of no one. He wanted to be no one at all, actually, with no relations and no responsibilities. Who was he to be the most  _ important  _ boy in all the world? 

 

Not only that. A half-breed. A creature of which didn’t even exist anywhere else. Aesir and elves… fine. Aesir and Vanir… fine. Hel, there were even some lucky humans who attracted Aesir interest. But even the books, even the most fantastical fictions, never went so far as to suggest Aesir and Jotun could breed.

 

As to Loki himself, being half-Jotun… it made no sense. Loki had never felt any kinship with the invaders of Asgard. Nor was he especially large or powerful compared to the Asgardians he’d seen. The only thing that made sense was a very slight affection for the cold he’d always had, but that was nothing out of the ordinary. He laughed at that, and suddenly hated himself.

 

Always Loki over-thought and under-actioned. With all his thinking, maybe he could’ve had the self-awareness to notice that he wasn’t even made of what he thought he was.

 

He reached out with his magic to ensure that Odin was really leaving. Sure enough, the king was already nearly to the outside of the forest, where a grey stallion stood in wait for him. Horses did not like Loki’s dense forest dwelling.

 

More important than Odin’s absence, though, was Thor’s presence. Standing. Next to Loki. And he had not noticed it until this very moment.

 

Loki almost jumped, then set to work undoing the spells he’d put on Thor. One by one, the injured boy became available to the senses. At least he was as easy to reveal as he was to obscure.

 

When Thor was finally visible again, his expression was concerned, albeit less concerned than Loki’s own. “Are you going to explain any of what just happened?” he said plainly.

 

Loki’s heart thudded too fast within his chest and he knew he needed to play ignorant. “What just happened?”

 

“Why you could not see nor hear me, and why my father was here,” Thor said. Unsurprisingly, he wore the look of someone who believed they deserved answers.

 

Loki was really not too bright today, was he.

 

He looked down defensively and folded his hands so he’d have something to do with them. “You can’t figure it out? I wanted to hide you from him. And if you saw him, I’m sure you know exactly why he was here,” Loki finished irritably. He had endured far too much personal conversation today already, and having Thor delve into his past as well was unacceptable.

 

“No. I only saw him leaving. And you not looking very happy about something. I think it was your voice that woke me up in the first place.” 

 

Loki bit the inside of his cheek. If Thor was being honest with him,  _ somehow _ , all might still be salvageable. “Hmph. Well… I suppose there’s no harm in telling you.” There was harm, of course, but it would be harm towards Odin if Thor divulged this secret to others. Loki was only a victim. A victim could harbor no guilt.

 

“Harm in telling me what? Loki, I… this is all just… strange, to me. First, Heimdall, then almost dying, and showing up here, and now Odin shows up, too? It’s a bit too much for me to handle.” His look of unease had morphed into something more troubled.

 

“You don’t have to tell  _ me _ that. It gets worse,” Loki said. He could not stop himself from pausing shortly to build dramatic tension. “Odin was here because… I’m his bastard. Your mother, Freyja, would not have me. I was another’s son, and thus unworthy of your house. So Odin sent me to live with a foster family, and then another, and then… it became apparent that that would work no longer. And so I’m here.”

 

Along the course of Loki’s reveal, Thor’s face fluidly moved through several emotions at once: confusion, disbelief, surprise, concern, sorrow. And then determination.

 

Loki continued, trying hard to stop his voice from quivering. “My… Our father often visited me when he left you and your mother. I grew up with him, in the smallest of senses. And so, I suppose we are…”

 

“Brothers,” Thor finished for him. He was looking Loki dead in the eye, now; his hand was gripping the edge of the countertop hard enough for his knuckles to shine white. 

 

Loki could not bear to tell him the identity of his  _ other _ father. He had not even begun to work through  _ that _ . Thor didn’t deserve that sort of information until Loki figured it all out himself, which would probably be never.

 

And still he could not resist a smile at Thor’s word and stable conviction. Loki had before had siblings, but never a brother in the true sense of the word. “I suppose. Half-brothers, if that’s good enough for you.”

 

“How could it not be? You showed me kindness before you knew who I was, and I trusted you before I knew who you were. The Norns brought me here, and now we know why.” He sighed happily and looked out the window. The ice was melting slowly, turning the glass world alive again.

 

“Indeed. Speaking of which… you’re standing up.”

 

As if being scolded for acting sick to get out of his lessons, Thor stumbled back over to the fireplace and sat heavily with his back against the stone. “Yeah… I was. I did feel up for it, all of a sudden, when I first woke up. Really energized,” he said. “Everything still hurts, but it’s a bearable sort of hurt now. More of an ache, like I spent too long at the training ground yesterday. But I’m mending.”

 

“You did a bit more than overtrain,” Loki added with a wry smile. “Even so, you should rest while you still can. We’re leaving soon.”

 

Thor scoffed. “Leaving? Why?”

 

Loki felt his anxiety returning, but turned around and began grabbing provisions from the cupboards, stowing each away in his magical pocket. “Odin suddenly wants to conscript me into the war effort.”

 

“And you said no?” Thor asked incredulously.

 

“I don’t want to help a family who never wanted me. This is not my war. And he didn’t even pretend to give me a choice.”

 

“Oh,” Thor sighed. “I guess… well, I can’t relate to not wanting to fight, obviously. Fighting is in my blood. Still, I suppose I can respect your decision.”

 

Loki stopped packing and glared at him, boring into those bright blue eyes with his own. “Can you? Your father hides your only brother from you for a hundred years, and you’re not mad at all about it?” 

 

Thor dwelled on it for a heavy moment. He looked faintly sick. “You’re right, Loki,” he conceded.

 

“I know I am.”

 

“I’m sorry. I-I only just learned how to defy our parents. So many years of being the perfect prince, of being all they wanted… I grew complacent. I wanted nothing more than their approval, and I got it.”

 

“Must’ve been nice.” Loki hadn’t even had the opportunity to chase approval growing up.

 

“But you’re right,” Thor repeated. He struggled with himself for a moment before continuing. “Do you understand how hard it is to unlearn a lie like that? That everything your parents tell you is truth. That everything they do is perfect. I believed it all.”

 

“I do, actually.” Loki’s words were oddly bereft of the acid he would normally answer with.

 

Thor traced his fingers over the wood grain of the floorboards and smiled slightly. “I’m glad to hear that. I don’t think my short excursion into rule-breaking is over.”

 

Though he would never admit it, Loki felt a fluttering in his heart at Thor’s decision. “You’ll come with me? You don’t wish to go home? I mean... if you wanted to, I could leave you here for him to pick you up, you know. Odin would be mad at me, but I’d be gone before he could do anything about it.”

 

“I don’t think I can look at Father again so soon. I didn’t leave for nothing. So, yes. Wherever you’re going, I’ll follow you.”

 

Loki finished packing what healing supplies he thought Thor might still need, smiling to himself. “I’m glad to hear that. Although I’m not sure you’ll like where I’m going.”

 

“That’s okay. I need someone to finish healing me!” Thor ran his hand absentmindedly over where he’d been stabbed. The red-brown bandage made it look much worse than Loki believed it was after the previous night. “Where are you going?” He sounded intrigued rather than anxious.

 

“I’m going to fix what Odin started and never bothered to finish,” Loki answered.

 

Thor’s eyes sparked like lightning. “It’s about time someone finished the Jotuns off. Or put them in their place, I should say,” Thor said, probably remembering his lessons in civility and inter-realm relations. “Bringing the fight to them. I like that. It’s what I wanted to do in the first place.”

 

“Is it?” The more Loki asked, the less he’d have to divulge.

 

“That’s where we’re going, isn’t it? Come on, don’t tell me that we’re just going to escape to Midgard or something. You’re going to Jotunheim yourself. I can tell.” 

 

Loki felt a rush of emotions all at once, and mentally ran through his justifications for allowing Thor to join him.

 

There was so much Loki  _ wouldn’t _ tell his brother - his parentage, his actual plans of what he’d do when he got to Jotunheim, his disallegiance to Asgard - but that was okay. A traveling partner could be useful, even if the goal Thor had in mind was most definitely different than Loki’s own. One brother who wanted to kill Laufey, and end the war, and one brother who wanted to… well, Loki didn’t really know what he wanted to do, yet, but it would probably conclude with ending the war, too. It would all work out.

 

Loki scowled slightly, but admitted it anyway. “Maybe so.”

 

Thor snorted as if Loki was the funniest person he’d ever met. “Well, count me in.” He sprung to his feet and immediately winced at putting so much force on newly-healed legs. “On second thought… we might have to take it a little slow, at first.” 

 

“That’s fine. You can’t fight in that state, anyway.” Loki felt an odd sinking feeling combined with a guilty thrill at indulging Thor. Still, though, it was much easier to focus on such mundane things as fighting their enemies when the same horrors lurked in Loki’s own body unchecked. “Speaking of which - do you even have a weapon?”

 

“No.” Thor frowned. “Bringing that shoddy sword wasn’t really at the front of my mind when I was desperately stumbling over here.”

 

“Point taken.” Loki opened a cupboard and began pulling out each of the many knives he stored in it. He handed the largest one to Thor. “Here. This might not do too much, but it’s better than nothing. If we’re lucky, we can find something more suited to you along the way.”

 

Thor took it and thanked his brother. “And armor?”

 

“I don’t think your armor will do you much good. And I don’t have any. But I could enlarge some of my own clothes for you. They might not do too much if a broadsword comes your way, but over the years, I’ve imbued them with wards, and at the least they should offer you some protection.” And with that, Loki rifled through his meager wardrobe, taking out dark colored fabrics and muttering a spell so that they’d fit Thor and his newly-grown musculature.

 

Thor began undressing and Loki looked away, out the window, thinking of what else they might need from this place that could not be found elsewhere. He realized how much he would not miss the forest. For all its gifts and peace, twenty years of living among such stagnation had done little good for his psyche. He felt old, and he was barely even of age. Perhaps an adventure was exactly what he needed.

 

“Well, I guess I’m ready,” Thor said.

 

The deep greens and blacks didn’t really suit him, what with his bright eyes and kind face and gleaming gold hair, but it was better than the torn rags he was in before. The sight was almost comical compared to Loki’s own sharp features and dark tresses, not even to mention that Loki probably weighed fifty pounds less than his brother (particularly funny, since Loki was the one with giant’s blood). Even dressed similarly, nobody would mistake them as brothers. Loki wasn’t sure whether that was a good or bad thing. 

 

“Is there anything more you need here? To sit down for a while longer? We don’t have to leave quite yet. Odin said he wouldn’t be back until morning.” Even as he said it, though, Loki doubted his father would wait that long to retrieve him. It was an eight hour ride to the palace. He could return deep in the night and surprise them. And it was very strange to go from  _ “staying in one room forever, taking care of a boy whose injuries still might kill him” _ to  _ “long, arduous journey to end a war” _ in the span of a few hours.

 

But Loki’s life was nothing if not strange, and Thor seemed to crave the adventure. They were doing this. Apparently, neither immaturity nor unpreparedness could stop them.

 

Thor strode confidently to the door, despite the small limp he harbored. “I don’t wish to wait any longer. Not with the opportunity we have to make things right. And I’m excited! No way in Hel two sons of Odin can’t end this war and fix Yggdrasil.”

 

Loki tried very hard to mimic Thor’s enthusiasm, but found himself cold at the thought of murdering his… his kin. He would need to get used to thinking of them in that way. Still, he grinned. “I think you might be right, brother. Shall we go?”

 

He gave the cabin one final look as Thor opened the door with a whoosh of brittle air. He grabbed his cloak on the way out. Hopefully, he would be back someday.

 

* * *

 

It was slow moving through the slow forest. Loki led the way southeast, downstream following the muddy path he and the whitetails had worn over the years. He could not blame Thor much for the many times he needed to stop and rest his healing bones, and when he could, Loki set upon him spells to alleviate his pain. They seemed to work well, and still they wore off at least every hour.

 

Loki ached to move faster. He thought his fear would wane once they were out and moving away from Odin, who would be coming from the northwest. Rationally, Loki knew that Odin’s men couldn’t search for them on horseback on account of the dense, sinister foliage. And even dogs would not find them, as Loki was dredging their scent from the path magically. But his worry only increased with each step. He wished to be out of Asgard’s lands as quickly as possible.

 

Thor said little during the first few hours of their journey. Loki supposed that he was too concerned with ensuring his footing on the little-worn trail was true, but more likely, he was trying to decide which topics were appropriate for conversation with his strange new brother. Loki did not make it easier on him. Loki did not know what to say either.

 

And he was okay with that. He enjoyed watching the mass of trees change from hundred-foot pines into yellow-leaved aspens while the sounds of the forest grew from silence into the soothing cacophony of birdsong and curious foxes. The trail, too, grew drier as they continued their quiet walk away from danger. It was strange how quickly the seasons themselves seemed to change. In the south, summer liked to stick around a little longer.

 

But it would not be there forever; dead leaves fell from their branches like weeping mothers and blanketed the soft ground. When the sun had sunk low enough to peek through the narrow tree trunks, bright enough to blind them, Loki stopped.

 

“I think we’ll camp here for the night,” he said. After so long hearing little more than the crack of branches underfoot and the rustling of leaves, his own voice sounded large and alien.

 

There was a small rise up to their left, crested in yellow wildflowers enduring the first freezes of the year. Loki made his way up the hill, extending his magic out again for the first time since they’d departed to check if this place was safe. Everything seemed happy here; a great warmth emanated from all the plants, the jays and cardinals and honey-brown squirrels, and mostly from Thor himself, who brimmed with amazement at the wildness of the land. Satisfied that there was nothing close that wished them harm, Loki withdrew the reaching seidr with a tinge of guilt.

 

Thor sat down in the long grass, running his fingers through it like hair. “I feel good here. I don’t think the war has touched this far east. Well, I know so. The battle I fought in was on the frontier.” He laid back. The setting sun cast shadows off the grass-blades which played on his fair face. “I’m glad we left. I’m glad we’re not going home. Thank you.”

 

“When will you stop thanking me?”

 

“Never.”

 

“I doubt that.” It was an honest sentiment. Loki wasn’t doing any of this to help Thor. He spoke again before Thor could question just what that meant: “Get up. Just because you’re still hurting doesn’t mean you won’t help me with setting up camp.”

 

Just like he had at home, Thor sprung up enthusiastically. He stuck his chin out and linked his hands behind his back. “Reporting for duty.”

 

Loki indulged him with a short chuckle, and tossed his own small, neatly folded tent out of the magical pocket. “You do know how to raise a tent, don’t you?”

 

Thor pressed his lips together.

 

“You don’t?” Loki laughed for real this time. “What a spoiled little prince you are.”

 

“I’d be happy to learn.”

 

“No, never mind,” Loki said. He waved a hand ostentatiously and the tent sprung to life at the level top of the hill. He then busied himself retrieving the rest of the things they’d need for the night.

 

Thor raised his eyebrows. “If you can do all that so quickly, why can’t you conjure me a sword? Or armor? Or… I don’t know, just teleport us there or something?”

 

“That’s not how seidr works. It’s limited. The energy that it would take to do those things wouldn’t be worth it. Moreover, some things take so much that nobody’s ever done them. Teleportation is one of those. Can’t your mother use seidr?”

 

Thor sat back down in the grass, rubbing his shin. “She can, but she never told me much of it.”

 

“You never asked, did you?”

 

“I never asked,” Thor admitted, though good-naturedly. “It was never my area of interest.”

 

“No, you cared more about fighting.” Loki let a bit of venom slip into that sentiment. “Well, when you’re out on your own forever, you grow bored. And you learn to help yourself in any way possible.” With that, Loki pulled out more supplies while Thor sat awkwardly. “Are you going to help at all? Can you at least make a fire?” Loki’s annoyance at his brother was growing far faster than he’d wanted it to.

 

“Yes. Sorry.” And he left to search for firewood.

 

* * *

 

After a short dinner, both brothers found themselves tired and reserved from the day of traveling, all the worse because of the many more miles they knew lay ahead. But they had covered a lot of distance already, and here it was difficult to be fearful, even of Odin. Well, this was what Loki’s better, rational side said. His heart was still trying its hardest to jump at every rustle in the trees.

 

As they were only here for one night, they hadn’t bothered to make a true camp. Instead, they sat on the still-warm ground while the diminutive cooking fire slowly died and the unseen cicadas sang them brittle lullabies. Thor seemed especially out of it; he stared into the embers wordlessly while Loki pored over a sharply-creased map of the continent Yggdrasil with a golden conjured werelight. He hadn’t looked at it in a long time, and knew that relying too much on its advice could be dangerous. Things had changed.

 

Before the war, the nine realms had been arranged like crooked spokes on a misshapen wheel, with Asgard at the center of it all; of course Asgard was always the center of everything. Beyond the lesser realms was a vast ocean, the kind that few ever sailed due to the boat-breaking storms and hundred-foot waves that never seemed to let up, even on the calmest of days. Asgard itself had its own inland lake, but it could not have been more different. One could practically walk on its surface as if it were a polished floor, and the water was fresh enough to drink. And in the center of that, the world tree. The stories were that its roots reached below the lake, down to the soil below, where they reached out into every realm. This story was the justification for Asgard’s supremacy. 

 

But this evidence had been found lacking. For Jotunheim had slowly seeped into Asgard over the last hundred years, taking weak border towns and petrified farms every so often. Over and over, Asgard tried to defend itself, and over and over, it lost. It lost soldiers and land, yes, but more importantly, it lost trust, for not only did this affect the Aesir themselves, but the lesser realms that relied upon them for resources and trade. After clearing some of Asgard’s land, the giants had begun moving east, stealing Asgard’s borders with them in turn. The centurnarian mystery behind it all, though, was that the Jotuns never seemed to attack the other realms, only Asgardians specifically. It had always seemed like an oddity in world-domination strategies. But now it made full sense to Loki. He could even reluctantly appreciate his other father’s pettiness.

 

This complicated their route. The most direct way from Loki’s cabin would be straight west-southwest. But this would be a terrible plan. They would be passing too close to Asgard’s center than would be comfortable, and moreover, they could also be spending a lot of time in Jotun-occupied land. Dallying in enemy territory would be unwise to say the least, not even to mention the secretive Asgardian scouting parties that still stalked the emptier reaches of the no-man’s land. It would be far too easy for even a disguised Thor and Loki to be found out. And then they would be either taken back to Asgard, imprisoned, or, the most likely outcome of all, killed. 

 

And so they would go the long way. The intermittent realms between them and Jotunheim were either starving or decidedly neutral, removed entirely from the scuffle. The brothers could slip through the wild country, unseen, unheard, and uncared about. 

 

Loki looked up. “Thor?” he asked.

 

Thor shook himself. His face looked strange in the play of blue and orange from the night and fire. 

 

“Is the border with Alfheim still secure?”

 

“Yes… Loki, don’t tell me…”

 

“What? It’s the safest route.”

 

“If they see me…”

 

Loki rolled his eyes. “They won’t. Don’t be such a coward. If you’re so worried, I’ll disguise you.”

 

Thor was not entirely wrong to be hesitant about entering Alfheim. His mother was from the realm. The light-elves were successfully holding their border with Asgard when none of the other realms had even bothered to try - Freyja would not let the connection between her two homes perish so easily. To an extent, the Jotuns had given up taking it. No longer were there daily squabbles and violence between the races. But it was still heavily policed by the elves, elves that would recognize Thor and send him back to his mother at the slimmest sight.

 

“Fine,” Thor said. “But we’re getting to Vanaheim as quickly as possible.”

 

“My plan exactly.” Loki folded the map. It would be another few days before they reached the border, days of bored walking up and down the little hills that Asgardians called mountains, waiting for Thor to catch up, going around any sign of civilization. Oh, and for Loki, trying not to think too much about the origins of this war and the thousands of lives lost because of his own.

 

Thor laid back, looking pale. His blunt fingers poked around at the wound in his side.

 

“Stop,” Loki warned.

 

Thor sat up and glared at him. “It doesn’t feel right.”

 

“It’s fine. Just stop thinking about it. The more you touch it, the worse it’ll feel.”

 

Thor’s jaw set and he hummed a reluctant assent. “I’m going to bed.” And he got up and entered the single tent, looking as hurt as he had back in Loki’s cabin, before the storm that had seemingly cured all his ails.

 

Loki still didn’t understand that. He also did not feel guilty. The storm and Thor’s healing were not his sole responsibility. No way Thor would be completely fine right away, no matter what he did.

 

But the changing flora here called to Loki, and he wondered what he could do with it all, potions-wise, given the time. He didn’t have the time, but maybe he’d be back to try it someday.

 

The fire died, and Loki was left out in the dark. The dry air was cooling quickly. The aspens with their unblinking eyes stared at him until he’d had enough, and he crawled inside, too, keeping as much distance as he could between his body and his brother’s.


	4. Interlude I

_Interlude I_

 

The door flung open; the crash that sounded out as it hit the wall behind caused the entire room to shake.

 

Freyja looked up from her well-worn place in bed. “What?” she asked. She was a fool to sound so hopeful.

 

“Gone. Both of them, now. Nowhere to be found.”

 

Her face fell, tear tracks settling back in where faint wrinkles marred her face. They were a new addition to her pale visage. “You think… you think L-Loki,” she _knew_ his name, but liked to pretend she didn’t, “had something to do with this?”

 

Odin sat on the edge of the bed, willing for his rage to subside. “Logically, no. It is an impossibility that they could have found out about each other.”

 

Freyja’s head moved almost imperceptible back and forth. “I don’t want to hear your logic. You know that it is deficient.”

 

“Don’t patronize me. You will only make it worse on yourself. You are so adept at increasing your own suffering.” And Odin was so adept at increasing his own rage, so it seemed.

 

He felt her aura, that unspeakable magical thing surrounding her that he could never quite understand despite his best efforts, shift towards the darkness she had once been capable of so adroitly. But Thor’s disappearance had robbed her of most of that power she’d once had. This darkness was but an echo. More fitting, Odin supposed, for a light elf anyway.

 

Incapable or unwilling of doing much else, she reached for the venom with her words instead. “And you are so adept at tempering it. Would you ever actually do something to fix this bloody mess you’ve created. Would you ever actually act as a king acts.”

 

Odin stood, turning to face her, rage inflaming into a semblance of what he himself was once capable of feeling. “That is what you wish for? Careful, Freyja. Would _you_ endure the effects of such a thing.”

 

“Is that what it takes then?” she struck. “ _Our_ son is out there. He may be dead .And you’ve done nothing. Nothing except your usual selfish acts. I cannot even say that I’m appalled. You’ve always cared more for _him_ than is wise.”

 

“Indeed.” He paused. She very well knew the irony at play. There was nothing physically wrong with her. She could leave and go look for Thor whenever she liked. Her unsaid  insinuations were not appreciated, either. “I’ll go, then, if you wish it.”

 

Freyja said nothing. Odin turned to leave.

 

“Someday, I wish that you might love me as you ever loved him.”

 

_Him._

 

Odin crossed the threshold and shut the door gently. He knew exactly what she meant. To love her not as a wife, but as an equal.

 

He’d made up his mind already. He would do just that when she had earned it. Calmly, he went to fetch his heaviest cloak, then headed for the Bifrost.


	5. Chapter 5

They soon learned that mornings had an air of magic. Each day, they woke feeling stronger than before, and each night, they fell asleep drained and weak. No matter how far they went or how much they rested, it happened all the same. Rarely did they stay awake beyond sunset because of this.

 

It should’ve been a three-day walk to Alfheim over the gentle mountain range of Asgard’s south, but their pace was erratic and they never seemed to make it much more than a mile an hour after noon had passed, when before they could easily do three or four. Unsurprisingly, it affected Thor more than Loki. He would begin the days chipper and energetic, almost bounding through the forest, but as the sun moved over their heads, his mood turned and he became almost completely insufferable. He fretted about, wondering if he had an infection, though he had no fever. Loki wasn’t sure what he was complaining about. He was  _ almost  _ whole, still. Close enough.

 

And so three days turned into four, and then five. Loki started to wonder whether this was a blessing, though. This was likely going to be the only truly safe portion of their trip. And other than Thor bringing up what exactly on him hurt every few minutes, Loki found that they actually  _ did _ get along. The initial awkwardness wore off after the first day, and soon, they could not stop talking. They spoke of their childhoods, their father, the fate of the world. For sons of the crown, these were all the same thing.

 

Sometimes Thor was very easy to hate, or at least feel disdain for. There was so little he knew and understood of the world. And sometimes, Loki found him the most delightful creature in existence. He was funny, and kind, and relentlessly optimistic. Sometimes it got old. But he could tell that Thor was constantly, irreparably enamored by his new brother. And it so happened that his new brother quite liked the attention.

 

Talking was easy; talking passed the time. Like this, the Odinsons trudged on. 

 

As they trembled down the final mountain pass, the aspen forest gave way to open plains. A large settlement loomed in the distance; the valley air was slightly darkened from the smoke of cheery fires in the expansive mead hall.

 

Loki stopped, looking back at his brother and smiling. “No, we can’t go in.”

 

“I wasn’t suggesting anything!”

 

“I know. But I can tell you want to.”

 

“Well… you’re right. I could go for a beer. Or several.”

 

“I think it’d be easier for me to transmute some than for us to go in and get it without being noticed. Maybe once we’re out of Asgard, we can find somewhere to actually have a meal.” Loki wouldn’t admit it, but the thought of a good drink, a real bed, and some time away from Thor was beckoning him. Even though he enjoyed having someone so different from himself to talk to, sharing a tent was grating for one who had grown used to sleeping alone every night of his life.

 

“I’d like that. I’m getting tired of going around every hint of civilization.”

 

“I thought your company was getting tiresome, too.”

 

Thor kicked his brother lightly in the back of the knee for his jibe. Loki would spit out another retort, but he was smiling too wide to do so.

 

“We’ll have to skirt it even more than we normally do, with all this open land,” Loki said. “I don’t want to risk it. And anyway, I think we can start moving deeper south. Then we should be able to hit forest again and make camp there.”

 

“I bow to your will, Loki Odinson,” Thor joked, and Loki’s mood turned. He didn’t laugh at this, or even smile, though Thor wouldn’t have been able to see it anyway.

 

Instead, he quickened his pace down the mountain path stony-faced, wondering how Thor could be so trusting of him. He was a foolish boy, the product of a sheltered upbringing with too much love and too little exposure to those who wished him harm. Soon, he would find far more of the latter.

 

When the ground underneath them finally leveled out, the sun was beginning to set. For once, this was a good thing. Thor was tired and Loki knew he wished to stop and make camp here, but the grassy land in front of them was so bare that Loki didn’t even feel comfortable walking through it, let alone sleeping. He could keep watch while Thor slept, but couldn’t trust Thor to do the same for him. 

 

“We haven’t made it as far as I thought we would’ve. And I’m sorry to ask,” Loki wasn’t sorry, but it was amusing to be overly polite to his brother, “but is it okay if we keep going a little while longer?”

 

“How much longer?”

 

Loki pulled out the map and handed it to Thor. “That settlement, Agyntyr, is straight east from here. Two small figures wandering through their farmland could cause a Hel of a lot of suspicion. Even at night, we could be seen.” He pointed at the valley separating their current position and the rest of the hilly range that they could more easily get lost in and follow to Alfheim. “We have to cross this, and it needs to be tonight. It’s about six miles. Do you have that in you?”

 

Thor gave him back the map and continued walking, calling back to him. “Of course! How dare you to suggest otherwise!” He sounded faux-offended, and surely he was only trying to make Loki feel better. But Loki could smell lies like a bloodhound.

 

“In that case, I won’t stop for you the next time you need a break.”

 

“Then I guess I’ll just have to get lost and accidentally end up in Agyntyr’s largest mead hall.”

 

Loki rolled his eyes, but followed. 

 

* * *

 

For once, Loki was glad to be disproven. He had feared that, although they were on steady ground now, the darkness would slow them. Moreover, this was the latest they had been up in days. If habit held true, they should barely be moving. But the steps began to fly by, and the settlement in the distance provided them a sense of calm, a detachment from the war and from things that wished them harm in the darkness.

 

Still, they walked without a light. The swishy grass tickled their knees and the warmer, settled air of the valley kept being interrupted by wintry winds from off the foothills. Loki wondered whether Thor was cold. He didn’t have the promise of a cloak hidden away as soon as he needed it.

 

Suddenly,  Thor stopped in front of him. He held a hand up telling Loki to do the same.

 

Somewhere far to their left, a rustling bit through the quiet brush of wind over grass.

 

Then, a grunt. And another.

 

Thor shot his brother back a confused look. Loki’s heart was jumping; he pulled out a knife for each hand. Slowly, he started moving closer to the sounds like a stalking cat. He wanted to sneak up on whatever  _ it _ was, not the other way around. 

 

He heard Thor following him. The idiot, couldn’t he just be quiet? He was in no shape to-

 

Loud enough to wake slumbering rabbits and field-mice, a high voice gasped. This mystery was too much; Loki conjured a light, hoping to scare them.

 

Behind him, Thor threw his head back and laughed.

 

In the grass, on a thick knotted blanket, were a young girl and a young boy, completely naked and shivering,  _ trying _ to figure out how to pleasure each other. They shielded their eyes from Loki’s light and cowered away, trying to hide their breaking innocence but giggling all the while.

 

“Erm - sorry,” Loki said, extinguishing the light and looking away. He could feel heat rushing into his cheeks like tidal waves.

 

“Excuse you!” the girl exclaimed, wrapping another blanket around her. “Could you give us some privacy?”

 

The boy put his hand on her shoulder. “Sig - darling… it’s fine, they’re leaving…”

 

“Why are you out here anyway? We are  _ miles _ from Agyntyr.” Her anger had not abated. Loki put his knives away; he didn’t want to scare her too badly.

 

Thor chimed in behind him. “Same thing as you. We just wanted a little privacy. Loki, come on.” And Thor took him by the hand, threading their fingers together like lovers.

 

Loki was extremely grateful for the new moon, because his cheeks had grown even redder. “Sorry. You two have fun.” And he followed Thor back away from the Aesir adolescents.

 

* * *

 

When they were finally out of earshot, Loki’s embarrassment still hadn’t faded, though now at least he could have his hand back. “What was that?” he asked Thor.

 

“Oh, lighten up. It was a good excuse. What, are you afraid of a little lie?”

 

Loki bristled; Thor had no idea just how intimate with lies Loki was. “Fine. You’re right. I just hope they don’t say anything.”

 

“I think they were a little distracted by other things. And is it really so unbelievable that you’d want to run off into a field in the dark with me? I am a prince, you know.”

 

Loki knew he was joking, but felt bitter nonetheless. “They don’t know that.”

 

“I bet they could tell.”

 

“Stop being so cocky.”

 

“Never,” Thor laughed. “What? You’re still being  _ so _ serious. I think it’s funny.”

 

“I suppose.”

 

Loki really,  _ really _ hoped that he’d just ended that conversation. It wasn’t that he was so disgusted with Thor’s appearance, or that he couldn’t understand that Thor wasn’t being serious. Or even that he was uncomfortable with his brother making such graphic jokes. 

 

In actuality, that was the first time Loki had seen anybody else naked in such a context. And though Thor wasn’t any older than him, he really, truly doubted that he could say the same.

 

It brought him little more than shame, but shame that he suppressed, sometimes, though not always when he was alone, truly alone, and could imagine the most wonderful, terrible things happening to him by the way of a faceless stranger, and he could touch his own body in ways he didn’t understand, but they felt so  _ nice _ , and just keep giving into it more and more and-

 

Loki shook his head. No, no. This was not a time to do that. This was a time to suppress.

 

“Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting that. I thought we were about to be attacked, actually. So I was just a little shaken.” Loki overexplained everything.

 

“It’s fine, little brother. No need to keep explaining yourself to me. I know when to let things go.” There was still a massive grin in Thor’s voice.

 

“Well, then let them go. And keep going. We still have another four miles, I expect.”

 

* * *

 

The shelter of the trees once they were lost in the hills again felt like a warm woolen blanket, covering them in comforting darkness after the nakedness of the fields around Agyntyr. It was impossible to think they’d be spotted now, not within the underbrush that grew dense and heavy with water. They barely needed the map to tell them they were close to Alfheim - the plants told them. Loki’s mood had improved for it, and the sleep after a long day certainly hadn’t hurt.

 

Though that might’ve not been the singular reason. Even more than lately, and even considering the short hours they’d slept after escaping the valley, Loki was excited again. He felt powerful, and he wasn’t sure why. The only thing he had done differently that night was kick Thor as hard as he could when Thor teased him about the lovers one last time right as he was about to fall asleep. It didn’t matter. It was working, and Loki was even beginning to form a plan for what he would say in Jotunheim. Perhaps hatred (of Odin? of Freyja? of Laufey?) truly was the greatest motivator.

 

After only a day and a half in the thickening rainforest, they began hearing voices. Guards, no doubt, to alert the elven armies of any Jotun spottings. Though the climate itself in this region of the world should’ve been good enough to keep them away.

 

This time, it was not Thor’s turn to request a stop every few steps, but Loki’s. When they heard something that sounded intelligent, he would expand his senses outward, checking just how close the Aesir and elven border-guards were, and whether they noticed the two boys creeping through their forest towards the border. It exhausted Loki more each time he did it, but it was worth it to know that they were not being watched. 

 

With this new danger intact, they could no longer chatter like they had grown used to doing. This was acceptable to Loki, but every time he looked back at Thor, he looked like there were about a thousand words about to burst out of him. Loki hoped that he would remember them for later. They had a long ways to travel through the dead wastes of Muspelheim with nothing to do.

 

For now, Loki enjoyed the silence and scenery. He had never been this far from home (or even close to it), and though he’d read of the massive, spectacular foliage of Alfheim, seeing it firsthand was breathtakingly different. And they weren’t even  _ to _ Alfheim yet. This was a taste, and now Loki was thirsty for the entire ocean. 

 

His magical sensitivity had waned slightly since that first storm-induced strengthening back home, but touching all of this unfamiliar life was still an overwhelmingly beautiful experience. There was simply so much of it all - a feast for the senses after his more restrained rations in the high mountain deserts. But it was also the detail of it. Each speck of matter buzzed in a swirling confusion of constant anxiety, fear, hunger, excitement. Everything wanted everything, constantly. When they experienced more sentient beings, it was almost a letdown. The Aesir and elves were comparatively calm. It was boring. 

 

Loki knew that he could get lost in the lives of the infinite plants and animals living in the rainforest. He wanted to. The pull he had felt before into this world of extreme empathy, of feeling only what other life felt, had strengthened now that there was so much more of it. So novel it was, too, to be forced to the background of his own mind.

 

But he needed to resist it. Eventually, the war would touch even here. And then all would be death.

 

When the surges of “intelligent” consciousness grew too strong to ignore, Loki returned to himself more permanently, already missing the wealth of feeling but knowing the border was close and his attention was needed elsewhere. He held a hand up to stop Thor, who promptly took a seat on a large boulder, tired already.

 

“I think we’re almost here,” Loki whispered. 

 

Thor tried to look glad, but worry won out on his face. “Do you have a plan?”

 

“I always have a plan,” Loki snapped. Actually, he had several.

 

Alfheim had neither wall nor fence at their Asgardian edge; the foliage was sufficient enough to keep the unwanted out. Instead, small camps where the forest had been tamed formed the crossings for visitors, of which there were few now. 

 

Thor shifted uncomfortably. “Does it involve sneaking across?”

 

“Well, we’re not about to march into the post.”

 

“Don’t be funny with me.”

 

Loki tried not to roll his eyes. “I can’t help it.”

 

“Couldn’t you just disguise us? Just change my face around and then no one will suspect a thing.”

 

Loki knew exactly what his brother was doing. Complaining, like always. He missed his bed and feather pillows and generous meals, and evidently thought that the meager camp would have any of that for him. 

 

“No. It’s too dangerous. We are going to walk over the border, plain and simple. Nobody will see.”

 

“No tricks?”

 

Loki’s annoyance was growing. “We don’t need them. There’s no one here. Why would we walk into the lion’s den when we’ve attracted no suspicion whatsoever so far?”

 

“I’m hungry.”

 

“There’s food all around us. Really, Thor.” Loki glared at him, hoping that for once he would grasp the gravity of the situation. “You’re missing. There are people looking for you - your mother, surely. What if she happens to be there? Even disguised, people leave magical traces. No doubt Freyja knows yours well and is searching for you that way. Go too close, and you’ll stand out to her like a lightning bug in the darkness.”

 

Thor sighed, clearly chagrined that Loki was wholeheartedly correct (again). “Fine.”

 

“Good. You understand.” Loki pulled out the map, though it was doing them little good now with no visible landmarks to go off of in the dense forest. The day was slowly fading, and it would be better if they entered Alfheim during dusk, where the light flattened all and any guards around were not yet aided by the elves improved night-vision. 

 

Even through guessing, though, Loki was positive that they were a few hundred yards away at most. He looked back up at Thor, feeling like they were doing the right thing. “Just try not to think about it too much. We’re just walking forwards. You won’t notice the difference; it looks like Alfheim here anyway. And we won’t be there long. It’s only a few miles between the crossing we’re by right now and the Vanaheim border. And you  _ know _ there won’t be guards of any sort there.”

 

Despite Loki’s reassurance, Thor’s attitude still seemed to be growing more dour. For whatever reason, it increased Loki’s confidence. “What makes you think it’ll be better in Vanaheim?”

 

Now it was Loki’s turn to sigh. “You know this, Thor. They’re all starving. They won’t have the energy to care about us.”

 

“Not all of them are starving. That, and we could be targets.”

 

“What do you mean?” Loki asked, actually surprised. He didn’t know much about the current situation in Vanaheim. Even through his sudden trepidation at Thor’s words, he was glad with himself still for bringing Thor along. He needed this new information.

 

Thor rested an ankle on his opposite knee, gripping his shinbone like he needed to hold the thing together. “Some of them are dying, yes. Most of them. We’ve been able to get some aid through the Jotun territory into Vanaheim. But once it arrives, it gets stolen. Stolen and sold.”

 

“Alfheim doesn’t help?”

 

“It’s not their problem.”

 

The lack of surprise Loki felt at the explanation soured his previously-good mood. So they would encounter danger through this route. Loki wasn’t an especially charitable person, but neither was he pleased with the thought of the Vanir masses going extinct at the behest of their ruling class. Especially if the pirates who sold such resources thought two Aesir chugging through the wilderness might be easy prey.

 

He wasn’t sure how to reply, though, so he settled for empty promises and feigned courage. “We’ll outrun them. Now, come on. I won’t have your unease holding us back. If you want to go home, you’re free to. Wander into camp and I’m sure someone will recognize the prince of Asgard.”

 

“No!” Thor stood up like a child who had just been told to go to bed. “I said I’m coming with you, and I am. We will be-” He cut off. His eyes wandered from Loki’s, over and into the brush, widening.

 

Loki didn’t have to reach out with his magic to know that there was something wrong. He felt it breathing down his back.


	6. Chapter 6

Loki didn’t even bother to turn around. He knew that this was no light-elf or Aesir. Something in his body told him he needed to move, fast,  _ now,  _ so he took off, mind cleared by the immediate threat of his life being ended by some nameless, lowly animal.

 

Thor was already ahead of him, but Loki wasted little focus on where either of them were headed; the myriad plants, vines, and rocks littering the jungle floor presented as much danger as the snarling creature behind him or the possibility of being seen by a border guard. Loki dodged them, hoping that Thor’s mending legs would hold up well enough, and tried very hard not to think about what would happen if they did not. 

 

But this animal was far better suited to navigating the forest floor than these two bipedal, awkward Asgardians. Would they even make it to the camp, or be found? Would it improve their situation even if they did? Loki didn’t even know what direction they were running, just that whatever chasing them wouldn’t stop on account of passing over the border into Alfheim.

 

He silenced the doubts and ducked under a low tree branch. Thor suddenly turned off to the side, so Loki followed - was he trying to lose it? 

 

Apparently, the creature thought so.

 

The growls behind him grew more feral; Loki couldn’t place what sort of animal they could possibly be from, but he still wasted no time in looking back. His legs were carrying him much faster than his mind could keep up with, but he still had the presence to know one thing: that they would at least need to attempt to defend themselves.

 

Concentrating hard on a spell to improve his aim, he pulled a dagger from his belt and sent it flying back behind him. A metallic cry and the sharp smell of blood told him that he hit his mark.

 

Thor slowed slightly and looked back. Loki didn’t see pain in his eyes, only a million questions. For all his talk of plans, Loki didn’t have a single answer. Fear had turned all of them to ash.

 

Loki swallowed and shook his head slightly, and Thor kept moving. The irregular beats of their footsteps evaporated any of the thoughts he might’ve had left.

 

Only forward… over… around… under… escape into whatever they could find.

 

But it seemed that escape had decided to show up in a curious fashion, here in this strange and fearsome world. 

 

Without warning, Thor fell to the ground, slamming hard into the soil. Loki nearly ran him over but stopped just short; a massive tree ahead (how hadn’t they seen it?) loomed imposingly, vines dripping off it and rotting on the ground. The jungle wanted blood even if the animal would be denied it.

 

“Thor!” Loki yelled before he could stop himself.

 

“I’m -  _ cough  _ \- I’m fine-” Thor reached an arm out, struggling to push himself up with the other. Loki could hear his breathing loud and ominous.

 

“I - I -” Loki said, but he had nothing to say. He hadn’t an idea of what to do. He realized that he had never been in danger before.

 

And today, danger strived to be an embarrassment of riches.

 

Before Loki could help his brother up, his senses all screamed out in terror. The animal was back. Loki turned, trembling.

 

It was reptilian, no doubt, as tall as Thor and mottled dark green and yellow to blend in with the foliage, with powerful, agile legs well-suited to dodging the green detritus and claws capable of sticking all the way through Loki’s belly. It shifted from four legs on to two, apparently comfortable in either position, and glared with yellow eyes into Loki’s own.

 

Its lips pulled back showing rows of pointed teeth, and it opened its maw wide as if to show Loki what was inside. Shards of metal embedded in the back of its mouth, each incision draining blood down its hungry throat. The enameled handle of the dagger was nowhere to be seen.

 

Thoughtlessly Loki pulled another knife out, but he knew it was comically worthless compared to the weapons his opponent bore. The reptile stalked closer to him, inch by inch, savoring the fear welling in Loki.

 

It must’ve decided that it had reached a fever pitch already. Before Loki could even attempt to defend himself, it struck, head jutting forward with the speed of a striking cobra. Loki closed his eyes. He wondered if he would bleed blue like his father.

 

But the strike didn’t hit where he thought it would. Instead of five-inch teeth sinking into his neck, he felt a sharp pull on his arm backwards and up (up?) leaving them to instead scrape over his arm and shoulder, leaving deep but not deadly gashes. Loki kicked out at it as the animal tried for another bite, but Thor was too fast; he pulled Loki up into the tree like he weighed nothing. Loki couldn’t tear his eyes off the frustrated creature below as it jumped and tried to follow them up the trunk.

 

Alas, the animal wasn’t created for such a purpose as climbing trees. Together, Loki and Thor scrambled up the branches and out of reach. 

 

“Th-Thor,” Loki said. He meant it as a sort of thanks, but it must’ve sounded like a cry for help.

 

The fear that had taken Loki clearly had no hold on his brother. He turned to Loki and looked in his eyes for a heavy moment. Then he pulled the ten-inch knife that Loki had given him from his belt, aiming it carefully at the massive lizard still struggling to gain a grip on the tree trunk, and threw.

 

Loki stared, unblinking, as it hit right between its eyes. It fell to the ground listlessly. Loki’s heart started beating again.

 

“Come on. There might be more.” Thor’s voice was calm. Carefully, he climbed up further between the tangled branches. 

 

Before he followed, Loki looked down. The blood trickling from his shoulder was red.

 

* * *

 

The sun was setting, and Loki’s arm stung like Hel. 

 

The tree Thor had taken them up wasn’t like one Loki had ever encountered. Its top was flat, or at least as flat as any natural surface could muster. They had brushed off the dirt and branches from its top, and its six-foot diameter seemed expansive after the claustrophobic darkness of the forest below. It was a nice respite. 

 

Loki sat cross-legged with his hands folded. His eyelids wanted to shut.

 

Thor, relaxed as ever, laid on his back, staring into the sky as the stars started to come out. The rise and fall of his chest was very slow.

 

They’d already exchanged the  _ are you alrights _ and the  _ I’m fines. _ Loki had already surveyed the surroundings and decided that they were, in fact, in Alfheim. He had not already checked to make sure that his wound was alright.

 

He felt an uncomfortable wash of an unexpected emotion.

 

He could sense that Thor was mad at him. Loki himself should’ve been mad, too, or at least frustrated. Frustrated with himself, certainly, for not paying better attention, or for planning a safer trip. Instead, all he could muster was gratefulness. 

 

Gratefulness was not something Loki had ever had to impress upon someone. So, even as he sat there, trying to come up with a way to express it to Thor, he seemed angry as well, and as such their circle of silent negativity ebbed and flowed.

 

Just when Loki finally thought he had discovered the right combination of words to say to Thor  _ (I’ll never forget what you did for me today  _ and  _ you don’t owe me my life) _ , Thor beat him to it. He gazed into the moon and talked as if it were the moon he’d saved that day.

 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

 

Loki exhaled his anxiety and smiled a little; Thor wasn’t mad as he’d expected. “I was going to. I swear. I was this close to telling you thanks.”

 

Thor snorted. “Sure.”

 

“Don’t you want to know what I came up with?”

 

“It’s fine. I figured you were either ungrateful for me saving your life, unwilling to say you were grateful, unsure of how to say it,  _ or _ you didn’t think it was necessary.” Thor turned onto his side and looked at his brother. His good-naturedness had apparently returned, at least by the way his eyebrows raised expectantly.

 

“Erm… the third one,” Loki answered.

 

Thor chuckled slightly. “I thought it might be the fourth. That’s what I hoped for, at least.”

 

“Why is that?”

 

“Because it’s true.”

 

Loki was grateful that Thor wasn’t patronizing him by explaining why. It would’ve seemed like a brag for Thor to claim that it was instinctive for him to save others, or annoying and phony if he said he only did it because they were brothers.

 

Thor sat back up, dirt clinging to the fabric of his shirt. “So… we keep moving?”

 

“Not tonight. We’re up here. Might as well make the most of it.”

 

“You just don’t want to be attacked again,” Thor teased.

 

“Of course I don’t. That’s just common sense.”

 

“I call that cowardice.”

 

Loki laughed and kicked his brother softly. “Then I suppose I am a coward.”

 

“For now. We’ll make a warrior out of you yet.”

 

Loki didn’t much like the way Thor said  _ we _ . As if Thor was making elaborate plans to drag him along to do things he didn’t want to do, make him into things he wasn’t and would never be. He might not have been the outspoken type, but if there was one thing Loki knew to be true, it was that nobody else would ever be allowed to even  _ try  _ to choose his future. 

 

He bitterly rubbed his arm where he could feel the gashes beginning to scar over. He hadn’t bothered applying any of the salve he’d made for Thor, nor cleaned it. It wasn’t worth such attention.

 

“Can I see?” Thor asked, noticing.

 

Loki nodded despite himself and pulled off his shirt, the sleeves sticking where the blood had dried already. It all looked much worse than it felt, and it was embarrassing to show to someone who had recently endured more severe injuries.

 

Yet Thor seemed captivated. For a terrified second, Loki wondered if it  _ did _ look different than a normal Aesir wound, if it had given him away already.

 

Wordlessly, Thor inched closer and ran his fingers gently around the perimeters of the gashes. Loki gasped. The prickling, which before had been but an ignorable itch, grew nearly unbearable.

 

“Sorry,” Thor quickly apologized. “Here - can I help with anything? You really ought to clean this up.”

 

“I know,” Loki spat back, but quickly regretted the venom in his response. “Erm, yes.” He took a bottle of antiseptic and a few of the clean cottony pads he’d used for bandaging Thor’s smallest wounds out of his magical pocket. “I can get most of it. But if you could get the parts I can’t reach, I’d appreciate it.”

 

“Nonsense. Here,” Thor said, taking the supplies from Loki and wetting the pad with antiseptic as Loki had been doing for him. Ignoring Loki’s look of protest, he knelt by his side, slowly wiping off the blood that had run down his arm and back and dried there. When he dabbed upward, just into the wounds, it hurt less than his fingers had.

 

Loki closed his eyes; there were more stars behind them than there were out yet in the spreading evening. It was strange to be cared for - even stranger than caring for another, which he was even starting to get used to. He knew he should probably hate it, but Thor’s hand gripping his arm as he cleaned felt so dreadfully reassuring.

 

Pain subsiding, Loki decided that having a brother wasn’t all bad, after all. Nor was it entirely meaningless. The knowledge that brotherhood wasn’t a choice he could make somehow snuffed out any resentment he’d normally feel tugging away deep inside of him.

 

“Thanks.” Loki sat contentedly after Thor finished up. He didn’t bother pulling his shirt back on. Now that it was off, he realized how very warm Alfheim was.

 

“Of course.”

 

“Do you need any of this?”

 

“No,” Thor said, slightly too quickly. “I feel as good as new.”

 

Loki knew he was lying, but didn’t press the matter. Surely what Thor needed most was a good night’s sleep. That sounded very good to Loki, too.

 

“Sorry that we can’t exactly put the tent up. Hopefully it won’t rain.” He pulled out the blankets they’d been sleeping with, though they’d probably do them more harm than good. Loki decided that he could deal with a little warmth in exchange for the grounded, comforting feeling the casual weight of the blanket provided him with.

 

Thor shrugged and looked upwards, noting the complete absence of clouds. “We’ll be fine.”

 

Loki handed him one of the blankets and peered down into the darkening forest. “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow. Only a few miles through Alfheim, but if you’re right about Vanaheim, we’ll need to be on our guard.”

 

“You mean  _ I’ll  _ need to be on  _ your  _ guard.”

 

Loki made a sound of indignation. “That was one time. It won’t happen again.”

 

“I look forward to seeing your expert defense capabilities at your earliest convenience,” Thor said, trying to deadpan, but a laugh slipped through all the same.

 

Loki laid down and shivered. He felt exposed, suddenly unsafe in such a vulnerable position. 

 

He heard Thor lay down, too. “Just think of the stories we’ll be able to tell once we’re home. I bet most Asgardians have never even seen creatures so fearsome, let alone escaped from any.”

 

“Thor…”

 

“What? You’re not going home? You don’t think Mother will let you stay after we end the war?”

 

Loki didn’t respond.

 

“It’s not  _ your _ fault you were born. I don’t even understand why she’s so mad at you. After all this, there’s no way she could still be.” He sounded unshakably confident. Loki wished he could feel that way.

 

“Let’s save that for another time. We’ve got a long road ahead.”

 

“You sound afraid of it.”

 

_ Afraid of it, or afraid of talking about it? _

 

Loki rolled over to look at his brother. He was expecting to see a mocking expression - eyes glinting with mischief in the moonlight, a nasty smirk parting his lips. But Thor looked concerned. Genuinely concerned.

 

But it seemed that Thor didn’t trust his own face, because he reached a hand out to stroke Loki’s hurt arm again. “It’s okay. We’ll be fine.” His repetition was becoming maddening.

 

Loki severely wanted to disagree out loud, maybe even to start an argument high in the trees, so that they’d be found and arrested. It was very difficult to do such a thing when Thor’s hand was on him. His words may have done little, but the physical affection Thor was prone to showing was novel, and, as Loki was discovering… kind of nice.

 

Abruptly, Loki rolled back over. The stress of the day (well, really, the entire time since they’d left) had caught up with him, and he worried that unexplainable tears would soon be welling in his eyes. He didn’t want Thor to see that. Thor had already seen so much of his weakness.

 

“Goodnight,” said Thor plainly. Loki hummed back a response.

 

The eerie silence of the forest scared Loki too badly for an easy rest. Without Thor’s hand on him, he thought he might turn weightless. Just as he felt the tree underneath his body slipping away, a grounding presence washed over him. A closeness that surpassed anything he’d felt already. He turned his head. Thor had moved closer to him. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to protect. So Loki let himself slip.


	7. Interlude II

_ Interlude II _

 

With all his knowledge, his wonder had never ceased. Blindness could not rob the seer of what he once knew.

 

With no eyes to look, he gazed inside. He gave thought - time, focus, energy - to what he had taken for granted.

 

With discovery denied, he turned to wisdom. He’d thought he had plenty of it before. But the deeper he dug, the larger the cave grew.

 

It always came back to  _ time _ . The Bifrost was the destroyer of time. For what use is time when duration means nothing? When one can  _ cheat? _

 

Heimdall had broken the rules so many times that he had almost forgotten them. Memory was his recompense. He made a point to picture it every once in a while. Not the expanse of it  _ all _ , but just the observatory - construct the golden sweeping architecture from memory over and over. It would be far too easy to forget it all existed in the first place otherwise, or to imagine something else in its place. But what harm would that be if he never lived to see the new image shattered?

 

_ Quiet. Focus. This is off-topic. _

 

No, no, the Bifrost was not the destroyer of time. That was all wrong. Its relationship with the thing was never so sturdy to have been cheated.  _ Played with  _ was more accurate. Space all existed everywhere at once, and this tool for accessing every place rendered time not an annoying necessity, but a spectacle. A show playing all of the events in existence simultaneously yet in succession, if one only had the eyes to watch them all.

 

Stolen of eyes, one must rely on ears. And voices lie.

 

“Good evening, Heimdall.”

 

“Evening, my king.” Was it voices that lied, or what they said?

 

“I won’t be requiring your services tonight,” Odin said demurely. 

 

Heimdall remained expressionless. “I have no service left to give.”

 

“Spare me the dramatics.”

 

So cruel. Heimdall was not offended. He had spoken the truth bereft of woeful exaltation. It was Odin who applied meaning in the darkness between words, thinking therein hid phantoms where only nothingness existed.

 

Odin’s own phantoms were on full display, for one does not need eyes to feel their cold presence. His desire for privacy - from his true destination, assuredly - was more revealing than if he’d simply asked Heimdall to prepare the Bifrost for travel to Jotunheim. 

 

“My apologies.” Heimdall released his grip on the sword-key and stepped back, descending the stairs without faltering. Without another word, he listened to Odin taking his place. The king twisted the sword into position; the notches for each realm had their own miniature personalities. Then he approached the egress. All the while, his cloak collected dust from the floor.

 

It was time; the Bifrost worked its magic, though it sounded stressed. In an instant Odin and his ghosts were gone.

 

Heimdall lifted an eyepatch. Still nothing but blinding white. Perhaps time would forgive him for all of his arrogance someday.  
  



	8. Chapter 8

Loki could feel the sweat dripping off his body onto the smoothed bark below. He’d slept later than the sun had, and the clarity of day was not agreeing well with his pale skin. The freshness he’d gotten used to feeling in the mornings was dampened somewhat by the heat. Regardless of the danger still hidden in the forest below, he ached to find the shade as quickly as possible.

 

To his surprise, Thor was up already. He sat bare-chested and relaxed, dangling his feet over the edge of the tree’s leveled top and swinging them happily. His well-muscled torso glistened godlike in the sun. The scars that hadn’t faded entirely did nothing to detract from the sight. Loki pulled his own shirt back on quickly.

 

“Morning,” he mumbled.

 

Thor jumped minutely; his eyebrows shot up when he saw Loki’s bleary-eyed face. “I didn’t think you’d ever wake up! Are you feeling alright?”

 

Did Loki really look  _ that _ bad? “Fine. Not used to this sort of weather. Or sun.”

 

_ Beautiful  _ weather, anyone else would call it. Anyone but a frost-giant.

 

Thor chuckled, but didn’t say anything of it. He probably got to bask in the sunlight all the time back home. “We can leave. I was enjoying it, but I don’t want you to spend the next three days complaining about sunburn.”

 

“This isn’t a vacation, Thor,” Loki snapped. “We need to leave for  _ actual  _ reasons, too. You can’t tell me you’ve forgotten them.” Appealing to Thor’s sense of duty always worked. But, mainly, Loki didn’t want the sunburn, either.

 

“I haven’t,” Thor replied quietly. It gave Loki a measure of satisfaction. The more time Thor was spending with him, the more easily and quickly Thor bent to his will. Loki knew that what he lacked in strength and physical conviction he made up for ten times over with wit, mental acuity, and deductive reasoning abilities. Thor was the opposite. But it seemed that their relative weaknesses were slowly starting to measure each other out.

 

He smiled as Thor leaned back to gather his things, handing them to Loki who stored them away. Loki then looked up into the cloudless sky, shading his brow with a dirty hand. What he would’ve given for a cold shower and actual soap.

 

“We’ll want to head that way,” he said, nodding his head towards the right, where the forest stretched out not quite to the horizon before thinning into obscurity. Beyond that point was Vanaheim, where danger wouldn’t always have the luxury of hiding in the shadowy undergrowth. They had their forests, but not to the extent of Alfheim.

 

“Excellent.” Thor slid down onto one of the larger branches, descending the tall tree so quickly that he must’ve done it a hundred times before, though the ones in Asgard were so much more modest. Loki followed more carefully, trying to avoid letting his arm scrape up against the branches. Still, the injury hurt less already today, and he was confident that it wouldn’t cause any issues for him if they encountered more threats.

 

Loki’s eyes started to adjust once they were out of the canopy. The air seemed thicker and more substantial and the chirping of birds was welcoming rather than foreboding. With one final slide down a smooth, strong vine, they reached the forest floor. The lizard was still there. In pieces, with large chunks of flesh missing entirely from its muscular frame. The smell was overwhelming.

 

Thor looked back at his brother and made a face. “Did I look that bad?”

 

Despite himself, the question made Loki lose his composure and laugh. “Nearly.”

 

“ _ Nice _ .” And he nodded his head as if Loki had just given him the highest compliment.

 

Loki rolled his eyes. “You are so…”

 

“Strong? Courageous? Valiant? I’ve heard.”

 

“How about egotistic?”

 

Thor didn’t reply. He looked like he was actually trying to consider whether he’d been called that before.

 

Loki shoved him lightly. “That’s what I thought.”

 

“Guilty.”

 

“Can’t say I’m surprised. Come on. We really ought to start moving.” And Loki lead the way once more, moving over fallen branches and ducking under vines, taking his time, hoping that Thor could tell that every insult levied towards him was out of love and nothing more.

 

* * *

 

The vast expanse ahead was… unexpected.

 

And Loki was beginning to think that books were a stupid, useless thing.

 

History books, at least. Spell books, too. How much in the realms and elsewhere changed while each letter was being printed?

 

He knew Vanaheim as a verdant, plentiful land of healthy trees and happy grasslands. Cool lakes and mild sunshine ripe for pencilled artistic tributes surrounding the words who tried to describe it in those beloved books in his shelf back home. The place was supposedly quite similar to Asgard, though nothing there shone quite as bright. (According to the Asgardians who had written about it.)

 

Or perhaps simply the extreme overgrowth, so alive with constant change that seemed so incorruptible in Alfheim had colored Loki’s memories of those tomes. Memory was as imperfect as writing, albeit in the opposite way.

 

Still, he seriously doubted that his memory could be this incorrect.

 

Thor and Loki approached the edge of the elf-realm and stopped. They had moved quickly, barely pausing even for water, but as they had approached the border, the found that the danger the rainforest presented paled in comparison to the protection it rendered them from wandering eyes. Beyond this point, those could no longer be avoided.

 

The bareness of the land ahead was so distractingly unnatural that Loki felt a pang of sadness, even without reaching his magical senses out to confirm the lack of life beyond Alfheim. This time, Loki didn’t need to ask his brother what tragedy had befallen the land. It was written in the massive scrapes in the soil, the sharp and gleaming equipment left to rust that they climbed over, apparently stripped of its duty now that there was no one there to pilot it. The utter lack of trees; the clear line in the land where the benefection of Alfheim stopped. 

 

Most disconcerting was the absence of wildness. Adding to the affliction was the sense that this was a failed endeavor: the crops planted on this wasteland were withered and grey.

 

But they had traveled too far to turn back or take a different route. This bareness would be a hazard they would have to endure. 

 

Silently they crouched behind one of the last large bushes clinging to life where the trees no longer shaded it from the harsh sunlight. Elves and Vanir guards alike patrolled here, though the Vanir especially looked worn-down and uneasy, and their numbers were few. Looking at them made Loki feel the same way. The Vanir and light-elves were usually on good terms. He did not like the reason for this change in demeanor.

 

Loki’s plan from their last border crossing would not work here (not that it worked last time, anyway, he reminded himself). There was nowhere to hide, and it didn’t look like there would be for many miles. Perhaps ever again.

 

Thor didn’t seem perturbed. He leaned over to Loki and whispered, “It’s going to be like this the whole way. We might as well just go.”

 

Loki sighed. “I can’t disagree.”

 

“But you wish you could.”

 

“No denial there.”

 

“Are you going to disguise us?”

 

Loki deliberated for a moment. The longer he kept the spell that changed their faces working, the more it would wear on him. If they were preparing to be attacked at any moment by pirates, he didn’t want it to be when he was already weakened. “You tell me. Do the Vanir know what you look like?”

 

Thor bit his lip. “I don’t think so.”

 

“You don’t think so, or no?”

 

“No.” He set his jaw and shook his head, as if Loki needed the physical affirmation.   
  


“Then I won’t.”

 

“Not even as a precaution?”

 

“No.” He didn’t bother explaining why not. Thor could trust him, or he could go home.

 

Thor clapped him on the back, just close enough to where the gashes in his shoulder were to sting slightly without him expressing discomfort. He felt a strange surge of determination.

 

“Give me your shirt. And any other valuables you’re carrying.”

 

“What?”

 

“Just do it.” And Loki started stripping himself of them, too. He stowed it all away in his magical pocket, fussed up his hair, and rubbed dirt on his hands. His torn and bloodied shirt from the attack the previous night would sell the act better than any of his fabricated costuming would. No magic needed.

 

He stood and started walking before telling Thor to go. A controlled walk - slower than his normal pace, somewhat pained. Emerging from the forest, setting sun hitting his brow to highlight the despair embedded in his features. He and Thor were like any other Vanir. Dirty, hungry, with a few fewer sores than any Aesir would dare slow from the pain of.

 

Loki put on an exhausted face and looked back at Thor. It was difficult for him not to smile when he saw how well Thor was exaggerating the act, too.

 

It wasn’t long before they were spotted. A guard hailed them, and they stopped. Loki thanked himself for not reminding Thor to brush the leaves out of his hair that morning.

 

“H-hey! You two. State your names and purpose.”

 

Loki turned around slowly. This guard was Vanir. Her black helmet obscured short reddish hair and a prematurely lined face, but not her nerves. She held a thin sword in her left hand like it was a permanent extension of her body. Loki assumed she was used to more fearsome intruders.

 

“I… I’m so sorry,” Loki said, affecting a tone of worry and ignoring her questions. “We were hungry. The forest looked so… I know we should’ve stayed away.”

 

She still looked wary. Thor, too, was tense where he stood next to Loki. 

 

“You’ve broken the law. I should arrest you.”

 

“We’re not proud of it,” Loki lied.

 

“He’s not telling you everything,” Thor butted in. Before Loki could interrupt, he continued. “We’re hungry, but that’s not all. There’s more of them coming. They drove us north, and they’ll be back soon.”

 

Loki was pleasantly surprised by how well Thor let his voice crack with fear. Maybe the coddled prince knew of it more than Loki had given him credit for.

 

Moreover, though it wasn’t what Loki had been planning, it worked. The guard looked away from him; her dark eyes scanned the horizon. She had probably seen one too many pirate raids to doubt Thor’s testimony. “You two better get back to town. I assume you came from there, right? It’s directly southwest of here. Not far. You might not make it by sundown. I urge you to make haste.”

 

Loki nodded. “Thank you. It won’t happen again.” He said no more. Truthfully, he wasn’t too happy to have been outwitted by someone such as Thor, even if it did help their cause.

 

Thor thanked her, too, and patted Loki’s shoulder once again. And he practically steered Loki towards where she’d directed them, as if Loki was intending to go against her counsel or something equally as stupid.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, they were ought of sight of all, even the sun. The act was dropped; they walked as they had before. But still they soldiered on in the same direction. Neither had brought up changing it.

 

But the lights in the distance grew brighter. Soon, their auras were larger than those belonging to the stars above them. 

 

Thor broke the silence first. “You surprise me, sometimes.”

 

Loki looked back at him. Somewhere along the road, he had pulled the leaves from his hair. “I could say the same about you. And before you ask for it, thanks for what you said earlier. I would’ve had it, but it’s nice to know that I can count on you.” His words felt strangely fake, like someone else was using his mouth for him.

 

“Ah, so I’ve proven myself now?” He smiled. “I’m just surprised that you let me say anything at all. And that we’re still going this way.”

 

Loath as he was to admit it, Loki found that his position as the unflinching leader of their little cavalcade towards doom was growing tiresome. He had figured that falling into step with Thor, the two of them choosing their path together, would absolve him of the responsibility when it led them to town - and the opportunity to bathe, eat something he didn’t have to forage for himself, and possibly even get a real night of sleep, completely alone.

 

He decided to divert his musings with a jibe. “You’ve been eating so much of our rations that we’re nearly running out. We haven’t really a choice. We’ll restock here and continue on.”

 

“No, we won’t,” Thor laughed. “We’re staying the night. You can’t hide that from me.”

 

“If you insist.” Loki pressed his lips together. He hoped that Thor would understand his tone; Thor wasn’t to know his  _ real  _ plans,  _ ever _ . But it was difficult to pester Thor too much when an image of a warm bed, a locked door, and a full belly kept taunting him.

 

Thor increased his pace slightly. “You know… I wasn’t going to say anything, but...” He rummaged around near the waistband of his pants and pulled out a full handful of gold, showing it to Loki. The coins were perfectly clean and sparkled exotically in the moonlight.

 

Loki bit his lip. He’d had no use for money back at his cabin, and hadn’t even thought to bring any of it. He would’ve been perfectly capable of stealing what they needed, anyway. “How’d you hide that from me?”

 

“What are you implying?” Thor asked with an impish grin. He offered Loki one of the coins. Contrary to their appearance, they were almost paper-light, made of some strange metal that he hadn’t seen before. Even when he’d lived in the foster homes, he’d never been allowed to hold any of it. 

 

“You don’t think somebody might think it’s strange for us to have Aesir coins? And so many of them? I thought we were supposed to be refugees.”

 

“Sure,  _ one _ guard thinks that.”

 

Loki couldn’t resist a smile. “I see what you’re getting at.”

 

Thor shrugged. “I am somewhat experienced at playing the part of a wealthy noble. Do you think you’re up to that?” The mockery in his voice was decidedly good-natured.

 

Once more, Loki couldn’t be too annoyed at Thor’s newfound proclivity for tricks. Rather, he preferred to think of it as the result of his teachings through their conversations traveling together so far. He might soon even have a brother he could be proud of.

 

Loki played along, straightening his back and looking down his nose, though it was hard to see much of anything with clouds rolling in, quietly pulling the covers over the waning moon. “I am a prince. How dare you to suggest any different.”

 

And with a spell, he vanished the blood and dirt from their visages, gave their ratty clothing the illusion of grandeur with flowing velvet fabric and metallic trimmings, and affected the stuck-up temperment of a minor Asgardian noble come to visit family in the affluent southern reaches of Vanaheim. He wouldn’t deny to himself how nice it felt to be clean and at least appear so put-together. Moreover, the cost to his energy to change both of them so was much less than he’d expected. Conserving his magic so much the past few days had been a fool’s errand. Keeping up the deception for the duration of the evening would be downright easy.

 

After making sure he looked acceptable, he turned to Thor. The true prince looked, somehow, even less comfortable in the clean dark shirt and smart, silver-buttoned overcoat than he had shirtless and filthy. Thor fidgeted with the sleeves and stretched his shoulders awkwardly. The fabric strained and bunched oddly in places. But it would have to do.

 

“Almost done?” Loki asked.

 

Thor peered back up at him. Though the clothes did not suit him well, magically cleaning his face and hair had revealed a fairness that even the darkness of night could not stifle. Looking like that, nobody would dare waste a glance at anything else. He grimaced slightly. “Sorry, yes. I think you’re mistaken about what I’m used to wearing.” 

 

Loki rolled his eyes. “But you’re not you tonight. Don’t forget that.”

 

A chill breeze picked up, unfettered by the bare, flat landscape. With luck, the brothers would make it inside before the building storm released its downpour. Speaking quickly, Loki explained his plan. Except the part about him actually, truly expecting to stay somewhere inside that night. He wanted Thor to be surprised.


	9. Interlude III

_ Interlude III _

 

The place was more familiar than Odin had hoped it would be. The Bifrost deposited him where it always had - the throne room. Back when Jotunheim was near-despondent, it was perpetually quiet. Laufey was its only inhabitant, most of the time, so it was a safe place for Odin to visit. They could find privacy anywhere Laufey wanted it.

 

But times had changed, and power had swelled with the tide of the war. A foreign king arriving via the sound of a hurricane and the sight of the aurora would not go unnoticed amongst the many now gathered here.

 

Every icy soul turned to look, but Laufey was not among them. The twelve guards stationed in the bustling throne room raised their weapons. The one closest to Odin strode over to him confidently, restraining his arms behind his back. The giants stared, unblinking. Their eerie inaction, however, was testament to Laufey’s total control over his realm.

 

Odin felt so detached that he barely felt regret for this choice.

 

He was led through the cold hallways by the guard, who said nothing to him. But he was unharmed. Perhaps he would be a little sore the next day from the strain of his arms being held in such an awkward position, but they had not killed him. Laufey must have other plans for his nemesis.

 

Before long, they approached a massive door that Odin knew well. Inlaid in it were delicate carvings - the history of Jotunheim. It was a sad story, mostly. When this era was over, would that be rewritten?

 

The guard knocked, and Odin heard the unmistakable harsh voice of Laufey telling him to enter. 

 

The king of Jotunheim stood tall and proud. His visage had not changed in the hundred years since Odin had seen him last. It was still perfect; ice made alive without losing its hardness, its shine, its perfection.

 

It fell, just slightly, when he saw what had been brought for him.

 

“Leave,” he intoned to the guard, who complied without hesitation.

 

The sound of the door shutting was like shattering glass, though it remained solidly intact. Laufey did not speak right away, but studied Odin’s face with a look of curiosity.

 

“What is your purpose here, Asgardian?”

 

Odin shifted uncomfortably; the guard had not undone his fetters.  _ Asgardian.  _ Did Laufey hold no respect for him at all?

 

“A warning.”

 

“A warning,” Laufey repeated, speaking slowly. He did not sound convinced.

 

Odin chose his next words carefully in an attempt to prevent himself from stuttering them. “I think he might be returning to Jotunheim.”

 

Laufey folded his arms. “You think.”

 

“I told him of his heritage.”

 

“Only just recently. I see.”

 

Odin felt the cold creeping reaching deeper inside of him, though he thought it might be less due to the icy architecture and more from the stare piercing into his eyes. “I make no apology. I am only here to tell you. He knows, and that means that he may be coming here.”

 

“And why must you tell me, king of Asgard? Surely you aren’t begging for my mercy. I have no intentions to end my war simply because you told my son something he should have always known.”

 

Odin’s heart stuttered. “No, not that alone. But his return… is this not what you wanted?” Against his will he felt his face turning red. It was shameful that he could so easily be brought this low. At least it was at the hands of a fellow king.

 

“That will change things, yes, but it has no bearings on the war. I do, however, welcome his return. I have waited so very long.”

 

His blunt tone did nothing to disguise his pain. Honesty was never difficult for Laufey. Each one of his words preached his truth.

 

Odin had no such control. “So… so, it’s…”

 

“This is not over. This war, Odin… it has changed for me, and changed me, over the years. I owe you gratitude for that. It started by my son, and it will end by my son. But not in the way that you wish it to.” He seemed to grow even larger in the short silence. “I have lost so much, but I have gained even more. And as you have so respectfully informed me, what I have lost intends to return.”

 

A weight seemed to drop onto Odin’s shoulders. Was it a weight of sadness - pity for what he did with Loki, sympathy due to his newfound pain with Thor’s disappearance - or something else? Laufey’s words held so much power. His stature, his unwavering belief in his own fate, his overwhelming superiority in love and war. Perhaps what Odin truly wanted was to kneel before him.

 

“Will you kill me?” he finally asked quietly. It seemed to be the only question that he still needed an answer to.

 

“You know that I won’t.”

 

“Will you make Loki kill me?”

 

“If he wishes to.”

 

“And if he doesn’t?”

 

“No matter. Your death was never my goal.”

 

“Only my subjugation?” Odin spat.

 

Laufey smiled. His teeth shone silver-white in the bluish light of the bedroom. “There is much that I wish from you. And your family, and your realm. I believe that myself and my progeny shall convince you to give it up willingly. I patiently await the day that you agree.”

 

Odin’s stomach turned. Not because of the threat, but because he knew that Laufey was probably right.


	10. Chapter 10

A flash of white light lit up the room through the dusty windows, and Thor’s booming laughter filled the room and Loki’s ears. 

 

The younger Odinson tipped back the heavy tankard and drained the rest of the sweet mead down his throat. The beginnings of a giggle seemed permanently lodged in his lungs. He felt better than he had in… Hel, probably his whole life.

 

The source of Loki’s elation probably originated with the warmth from the blazing fireplace. On top of that, the smell of wood burning mingling with baking bread and sizzling meat and the intoxicating yeasty smell of brewing beer filled his head with an unshakable feeling of coziness. The albeit boisterous presence of his brother added an unmistakable feeling of safety to the surroundings, so desired after the constant danger Loki had started to get used to. And to add to it all, the alcohol smoothed his emotions over with a pleasant buzz. Loki had made an  _ excellent  _ decision to route their trip in this particular direction.

 

In Vanaheim, winter meant rain rather than snow. The storm outside had brewed quickly, and by the time they had made it onto the cobblestone streets lining the perimeter of the settlement, it had started to pour. Thor had made no complaint regarding the weather, rather, he seemed to be excited by the rumblings above them and sudden flashes of light. Each time they lit up his face, his eyes sparked as if the lightning came from them rather than the monstrous clouds.

 

Still, Loki wasn’t too proud to take the conditions as another good reason to stay inside that night.

 

Their shelter provided a quieter and cheerier, not to mention drier, atmosphere than the deserted streets. The inn was the small town’s only center of activity, though even here things were fairly subdued; Loki knew it was due to the onset of poverty gripping Vanaheim. It was hard to tell how that affected the inn itself - there was no shortage of food here, the floors and tables were gleaming, and the mead itself was absolutely delightful. He couldn’t wait to slip into the downy covers of a feather bed upstairs and luxuriate for a solid eight hours before returning to muddy reality tomorrow.

 

Barring the unexpected arrival of thirsty Vanir, his sleep would be blessedly uninterrupted by rowdy tavern-goers. Though he knew it was a callous thought, the detriment of the Vanir would be a boon for him and Thor. They were much less likely to be recognized in a place so deserted, especially if, as it seemed, Aesir no longer traveled here often. This peace only added to Loki’s goodwill.

 

Thor sat opposite him at the laden chestnut table, facing backwards in his seat to chat merrily with the other four travelers indulging in dinner and a drink at the tavern. They were Vanir, jolly and unthreatening, with cheeks blushed first from the chill outside and then from the alcohol they had consumed in droves. 

 

Loki hadn’t said much to them besides a vague greeting. He thought they might be hunters, traveling this far north to try and sneak into Alfheim. Or perhaps they were heading up to Asgard by way of Alfheim as they had done in reverse. He didn’t really care when he himself was this full and cheery. In fact, he was trying to decide whether the memory of their dinner (pheasant with red potatoes and leeks) would bolster or haunt him once they reached Muspelheim, where all was ash.

 

To his delight, Thor hadn’t needled him when he had little to add to the conversation. Loki preferred to sit back and his seat and watch the flow of conversation, dwelling on morsels he found interesting (stories of a foiled voyage on the southern ocean, the characteristics of birds whose names he’d never heard) for heady moments before letting them swim away. He was grateful that Thor was content with the choice; Loki was not as confident in his conversational tactics as he wished he was. That, or he just preferred listening to something other than his own thoughts.

 

The storm, too, provided opportunities for drunken analysis. He knew that it was silly, but Loki thought he might be able to correlate some of Thor’s movements with its progress. Thor says something funny, the group responds a second later with a rumble of laughter. A particularly loud segment of rainfall pounds on the roof, Thor stiffens. Loki excuses himself to use the latrine, the shower subsides for a few minutes. 

 

The barrage of sensory input, all of which was actually  _ pleasant _ for once, provided a welcome distraction from Loki’s worries of late about their path forward and eventual endpoint. He let the storm cloud them all, the mead drown them, the food starve them.

 

Alas, his cup was not endless. The sole barkeep, an older man with sharp eyes, noticed Loki’s emptied tankard and approached quietly. “Another round?”

 

“Gladly,” Loki answered. Thor held his own tankard up in agreement, with the travelers following suit.

 

The man nodded. “Anything else?”

 

“Yes,” Loki added, “before I forget, can we get two rooms for the night? And could you point me in the direction of somewhere we can restock our traveling supplies in the morning? Thank you.” The words felt awkward in his mouth; he wasn’t sure whether he was speaking in any convincing way. But he doubted whether it really mattered, not when they had ample money to spend and weren’t breaking anything.

 

“Of course. Indeed, we stock some here, for travelers like yourselves.” He grinned. “I can have rations to get you to the capitol sent up to your rooms presently.”

 

Loki thanked him, wondering whether he should be worried at how smoothly things were going so far. Perhaps this was what life was perpetually like for those with gold to throw around. But it was a fleeting concern, for the memory of mead sweet on his tongue set his doubts to rest, and he set a mental reminder to tip the barkeep well when they left in the morning. When he brought back refills for them all, Thor proposed a toast. He must have been feeling the alcohol even more than Loki did.

 

“To our new friends,” Thor said, much louder than necessary considering the empty hall. 

 

“For the end of the war,” one added; his bushy beard muffled the sentiment somewhat.

 

“For the flourishing of friendship between Aesir and Vanir,” said another.

 

Loki wasn’t planning to add anything of his own, but as raised his glass, he felt something like happiness come over him. “To brotherhood.”

 

Thor’s eyes flicked over to him and his smile stretched wider. “Well said.”

 

They clinked their glasses together before another pang of thunder shook the hall. Loki shivered a bit but drank a healthy measure from his tankard. Without thinking, he stood from his chair to sit on the table next to Thor, joining and taking charge of the conversation like he’d been born to do it.

 

* * *

 

Somehow, the storm hadn’t abated when the Odinsons made their way upstairs - how long had it been? Loki could count the time in drinks he’d had, but certainly not in hours.

 

They were not quite to the point of stumbling, though the way Thor held onto the stair-railing indicated that he was close. Their companions in mead-drinking that night were still at the table, now playing an elaborate game with dice and coins that was far too confusing for Thor and Loki to want to learn. Or perhaps they simply needed a return to the unfussy privacy they’d grown used to while traveling through the wilderness. Playing roles, even for their own safety, was difficult enough when they were level-headed and sober.

 

Loki’s legs felt heavy as they reached the top of the stairs. Thinking himself funny, he grabbed Thor’s arm for support for this faux-but-possibly-somewhat-real exhaustion. Thor wheeled around, giving him a look of just-as-mimed infuriation, before losing it to a fit of laughter which Loki giddily joined in on. And then Thor was pulling him to the top of the stairs, and Loki was pushed up against the hallway wall, hands up in surrender as he bit his tongue to try and stifle his laughing so he wouldn’t wake anybody up.

 

Thor didn’t press onto him for long, though. He stepped back and his amusement subsided, giving way to immutable contentment. “Loki - thanks.”

 

“Thor, staying here wasn’t my idea.” Was it, though? Loki couldn’t remember.

 

“You…” he trailed off as if he was having a hard time forming words through his own smile, or possibly he just didn’t have a solid trail of thought for his mouth to follow yet. He looked up and shook his head contentedly. “This is what I wished for. My entire life.”

 

Loki raised his eyebrows. “This? Being drunk and staying up far too late with a few Vanir and a halfway-antisocial bastard? I think you could do better.”

 

“Ah, but I wouldn’t want to.”

 

“I would,” Loki said with a venomous grin.   
  


Thor shoved him a little harder than necessary, then headed off towards the rooms they’d been given for the night. Loki tagged along behind him, wondering how the ever-stodgy Odin had possibly produced this overly affectionate piece of work. 

 

He reached the door, emblazoned with a brass 13, and fumbled with his pockets, trying to remember which one he’d put his room key in. Thor had already made his way into his own room without shutting the door. Loki almost hoped that he’d already passed out on the bed, considering how he’d been acting the past few minutes.

 

In his velvet overcoat’s breast pocket Loki found the key and he entered his own room; the door swung shut behind him but he did not hear the click of it closing. No matter… he needed to leave again, anyway, to wash his face and clear his mind before he let himself fall asleep… and determine whether the supplies the inn had provided would be sufficient at least until they found another town. The rousing success of this visit meant that he couldn’t help but decide to stop at each one they found along the way through Vanaheim and Nidavellir.

 

It would be no harm to sit down for just a few minutes, though, would it? His exhaustion had caught up with him, and he trusted himself enough to not fall asleep. The bed in the small room’s corner was modest but covered in plush ivory linens; he collapsed onto it, letting his torso fall back with a satisfying  _ whoosh  _ of feathers billowing underneath him. He closed his eyes and ran his hands over its soft fabric.

 

But his peace was short-lived. The door creaked open. Of course it was Thor. By the way he leaned against the threshold’s frame, he looked like his giddy tomfoolery had melted away, giving rise to awkward tenderness. 

 

Loki made a face but sat back up. “Go to bed, brother,” he muttered.

 

“I’m not tired.”

 

“I am.”

 

“Then why aren’t you sleeping?”

 

Loki had no answer for that. Thor came inside, shutting the door all the way and sitting unceremoniously on the floor in front of him. The room was so narrow that he couldn’t even stretch his legs out entirely without them hitting the bed.

 

He shifted awkwardly. “Can you give me something more comfortable to sleep in?”

 

Loki had forgotten entirely about their decorous clothing. “Oh, sorry. Yes.” And he undid the spell from that evening, transforming them back into the dirty peasants they’d taken on the appearance of. He couldn’t deny that it was a bit of a relief for him as well.

 

“Much better.” Thor stretched his arms and shoulders, now freed from the confines of Loki’s illusion. He wasn’t wrong about it suiting him; even his scars looked healthier in the candlelight. 

 

“How’s your - everything?” Loki asked, unable to look away. He felt like he ought to ask, considering what Thor had been through.

 

“Good. I was afraid the mead would hurt my stomach, but it doesn’t. And everything else I can barely feel. Maybe a bit of soreness from climbing the tree, but I don’t mind that. I think I’m probably the fastest healer alive.”

 

“Or I’m the best doctor alive,” Loki teased.

 

“How’s your shoulder?”

 

“It’s fine. Stings a bit,” Loki added, “but I’m not worried.” He peeled aside the torn fabric of his shirt to examine what was left of the scars. Some of the scabs had even smoothed over already. “I’ll be fine.”

 

The silence grew uncomfortable, but Thor wouldn’t get up and leave as Loki was beginning to wish he would.

 

“So… where to next?” Thor finally asked.

 

Loki was glad to discuss something more practical. “Whatever the next town is, I suppose. I see no reason to avoid them, if it’s going to be like this.”

 

“Thank the Norns. We do need to be careful, though. I know we haven’t seen any of it yet, but Vanaheim has its dangers.” Thor was surprisingly coherent for all the alcohol he’d imbibed.

 

Loki sighed. “Mm. We’ll be better prepared for them with a full night of sleep, you know.”

 

“Not without a plan, we won’t be.”

 

“We have one. Why are you so determined to eat into my sleeping time?”

 

“Because I feel like I haven’t talked to you in days.” Thor paused, letting the honesty of the statement sink in.  _ This  _ was his real reason for being here. “We’ve been together, we’ve been speaking. But I don’t feel like you hear anything I say. Or think about it at all. You’ve been distant.”

 

Loki bit the inside of his cheek. 

 

Thor was right. Loki had been there, yes, had been drifting through it all by Thor’s side. But he could no longer deny that his mind was obstinately elsewhere. His attention had been corrupted, and Thor was its first victim.

 

But apologizing for his troubles felt wrong. “Yes. You’re correct.”

 

Thor’s lip curled slightly downward. “And? I mean… why? Loki, you aren’t alone. You said it earlier, and I felt like you meant it, but it was the only time that’s happened in days. Where are you?”

 

_ Jotunheim, or Asgard, or home, or gone…  _ “I should be here. I  _ will  _ be here. Never mind where I’ve been.”

 

The bed shook slightly as Thor put his feet up against it, a few inches from where Loki’s own legs rested, in frustration. “I do mind, though. I don’t know what you know of brotherhood, but I know what I want. I want you to be able to tell me. All of it. I don’t want you to… suffer alone.”

 

Loki willed the tears not to well in his eyes. He could no longer hear the pattering of rain outside, so it seemed like the clouds had moved into him instead. He wondered whether it was a side effect of the mead - moving him ever closer to eruption, of losing what meager emotional control he had. That had to be it.

 

He conceded. “Alright. I’m afraid.”

 

“I am, too.”

 

They let the words sink in, but there was no need for strained interpretation. Loki knew that Thor understood that he wasn’t afraid of animals, or the pirates, or traveling across the boiling wastes of Muspelheim. Or of pain. Their eyes met, and in them, Loki saw that Thor’s only remaining fear was Odin.

 

Funny how it was  _ always  _ about fathers for them.

 

Loki’s lips moved before he was really ready for them to. “Laufey… I don’t know what he’ll do. I don’t know if I want to know. This damned change… I don’t know if I can be the one to incite it. It just seems easier to leave things to fall where they will.”

 

“That is a falsehood, and you know it. They will keep falling and falling. They won’t hit the ground unless we create it.”

 

“Create what, though? More death, just…  _ different  _ death? How do we know that that will stop the war? How do we know that we even have a chance of doing that in the first place?”

 

Thor pressed his lips together and looked down. His foot moved closer to touch Loki’s skin. 

 

It was strange that something as minimal as a brush of ankles brought him crashing back down to reality. He exhaled. 

 

“Sorry,” Loki confessed. “I don’t mean to get into this now. We have time.”

 

“A lot of it, if we keep making stops like this. And I really didn’t come in here to make you worry more.” Thor smiled at him. “You can tell me what you’re thinking, though. You always can; I want you to. And I won’t let you forget that.”

 

Loki knew. He wouldn’t let himself forget it, either. The words had taken up residence on his tongue.

 

_ brother, I am the enemy.  _

 

He didn’t think Thor’s promise held a contingency plan for that sort of confession.

 

And so he thanked Thor. He even allowed himself to get up off the bed and give him a hug. He said nothing of what truly bothered him. And Thor left, leaving Loki to his much-needed solitude. 

 

* * *

 

Loki was not a light sleeper. The door did not creak open so much this time as thudded.

 

“Thor?”

 

A derisive laughter emerged from the doorway. “Who’s Thor?”


	11. Chapter 11

Loki sat straight up in bed with as much shock as if the roof had suddenly disappeared and dumped cold rain on him. Several impressions struck him at once, the words describing them jumbling together in his mind, still tired and hazy as he was:

 

_ He’s not Thor. _

 

_ That’s a crossbow. _

 

_ Thank the Norns I can see, it’s nearly pitch black in here. _

 

_ Although I shouldn’t be able to if I am Aesir. _

 

_ That crossbow is pointed at me. _

 

_ Where is Thor- _

 

There was no time for hesitation or wistful recollection of how wonderful his few hours of sleep had been. Each syllable seemed to accelerate the flow of blood through his veins; he needed to move, to fight back, to give into instinct-

 

No, no, something told him. Not move and attack - he was still unarmed - something better, something he’d never done before, or at least not like this, though wouldn’t it be easier, cleaner, than trying to punch his way out like some dull-headed Asgardian? That seemed a much better idea. After all, he was  _ not  _ unarmed. He was far from it. All Loki had to do was say a few words. Easy as a wave of the fingers.

 

_ Focus, focus.  _ The incantation wasn’t new to him, though he hadn’t used it much, and certainly never against a person. But it was the same in theory. He drew forward the tide of seidr in his gut, preparing to strike.

 

Seeing Loki’s admittedly strange expression, the bandit’s leer faltered, though he kept the crossbow held high and pointing unwaveringly at Loki. “Empty your pockets.” He punctuated the demand by motioning down with his weapon.

 

Loki almost laughed at the concept of simple acquiescence. Though it might’ve been easier, it wouldn’t matter what he himself did. He could give up all that the bandit could find. But Thor would surely be next, and Thor would never submit without a fight. Not unless Loki told him to. Could he?

 

A rumbling deep inside of him betrayed that thought; the seidr was ready and Loki would be damned if he didn’t use it. Before he could determine a safer way for them to weasel out of their rooms and flee the town, the words were on his tongue. 

 

It happened fast and plain. The tips of Loki’s fingers briefly glowed blue and his right hand twitched slightly. The bandit dropped to the ground, crossbow ejecting its arrow meekly to stick into the wall behind Loki. 

 

He smiled. It had been even easier than he’d expected.

 

Still, he knew that this was not over. He swung his legs out of bed, trying not to shiver, and took off towards Thor’s room as quietly as he could. All was quiet in the hallway and the sconces that had illuminated it with cheery orange spots on the wood floor were cold and dark.

 

At least the bandit trying to rob Thor had been unthinking enough to leave the door ajar. It seemed that Thor hadn’t noticed his own intrusion; Loki saw him sleeping peacefully under the sharp gaze of another bandit-held crossbow. He was relieved to see the blankets slowly rising and falling.

 

He muttered the words again and repeated his minute motion. The noise of the man falling on the hard wood finally woke Thor.

 

“L-Loki?” he croaked. His eyes flicked down to the body on the floor. He looked, if it could ever be said of Thor, almost ugly.

 

“We have to go.” Loki hadn’t intended the words to be a whisper, but his throat suddenly felt so cracked that it was all he was capable of.

 

Noticeable, too, was a pain between his temples and a nagging desire to collapse. His heart had still not subsided its impassioned pounding even though he knew the danger was gone.  With luck, and Loki was feeling rather lucky, the next danger was too far away to yet know that things had gone wrong. He wanted to be moving before they could catch up, and more importantly, before his own reactions could.

 

“Why?” Thor asked after a sluggish pause. He sounded almost as tired as Loki felt, though the early hour might have something to do with that.

 

“Just trust me. Now.” Loki turned, feeling slightly dizzy as a vague buzzing entered his ears. He left the room, struggling to think of their best escape route.

 

Thor was behind him almost immediately. “Come on,” he said. “I saw a window down the other hall.” 

 

“What if they’re out there?”

 

“Then they’ll be in here soon enough.”

 

Loki nodded to himself; Thor’s logic was airtight. He hurried down past where their rooms were and turned a corner; sure enough, a small window hung lonely at its end. Loki whispered another spell to remove its glass. This time, the toll the magic use was taking on him was unmistakable.

 

Wearily, he reached it and climbed out into the cold breeze, lowering himself carefully to clutch onto a gutter. The fall would be a good ten feet, he estimated, but he no longer cared about a few bruises or a twisted ankle. Far worse had befallen them, and he had a strong feeling that much more pain loomed on the horizon.

 

So without another word to Thor, he let go. The fall was longer than he’d wished, but he landed on his side, avoiding much injury. Easy, when the ground was so soft from the near-constant rain that he probably could’ve fallen on his head and lived. Getting up would be the harder thing. He crawled away so that Thor wouldn’t land on him and looked around with as much urgency as he could muster. No bandits to be seen, but the fear of hidden eyes and arrows flying towards his head clouded his judgment. 

 

“It’s safe,” he called out halfheartedly. 

 

Thor had a little more trouble climbing through the small window, but the squelching sound of the impact of his body with the muddy ground indicated that he hadn’t gotten stuck. Loki, however, didn’t like the unmistakable groan that accompanied it. He bit his tongue and waited.

 

“Are you okay?” Thor asked, after he’d collected his bearings.

 

Loki still felt slow, wondering why Thor was so concerned about him. Perhaps he looked worse than Thor had sounded. “Fine. Drained, but… I’ll live. I… I wasn’t expecting that to take so much out of me.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’ll explain later. Are you well enough to run?” Never mind Loki’s doubt in his own ability to do such a thing.

 

“Erm…” Thor trailed off and the knots Loki’s veins all seemed to be constricted into wound themselves tighter. “Maybe.”

 

“Maybe? Do you not know how to take a fall? It wasn’t even that far,” Loki spat, but immediately regretted the insult.  _ Why  _ was he being so erratic? It wasn’t Thor who had sold them out on this night. Probably.

 

“It wasn’t the fall.” He coughed. “Don’t worry about me. Let’s go.”

 

Loki assented quietly. It seemed like they both had something to hide, something that was mysterious and blurry to themselves, too. He hoped that Thor was as eager to bring it out into the open for dissection as he was.

 

But he knew that now was not the time. He stood with difficulty, the thin muscles of his legs aching in protest. From what he could see of Thor in the moonlight, he absolutely  _ did _ have cause for worry. His chest heaved incessantly and he was swaying side to side.

 

“Are you’re sure you’re capable of… anything?”

 

Thor swallowed hard, clearly in pain. It seemed to be growing worse by the minute. No way he could help fight anyone else off who decided the rich Asgardian brothers looked ripe for robbing. Loki would be all alone to struggle with them once more.

 

But with a reserved conviction, Loki accepted that it didn’t matter. They would be found out quickly and if leaving meant Loki carrying his brother out of town on his back, so be it. He didn’t think whoever found the bodies of the pirates he’d killed would be forgiving just because their murderer’s brother had a few sore bones.

 

_ Murderer _ … Loki exhaled all the air he’d been holding in quickly, as if the word had originated in his lungs and not in his soul. He would come back to  _ that  _ later.

 

“Alright,” he murmured, “it’s fine. We’re going to go. We will be fine.” And he extended a hand out for Thor to take, helping him up. It was embarrassingly difficult not to be pulled down by Thor’s weight.

 

Still, somehow, they stood together, and left. Step after step, breath after breath. The feeling of Thor’s hand in his own bolstered him enough to grip it hard, not letting go, leading him away from the danger. Even if running was too much to ask, a steady stride could be enough, couldn’t it?

 

Loki hoped for that. But if it wasn’t, he preferred to be captured or killed or beaten with Thor there suffering by his side.

 

* * *

 

All was quiet out in the fields; the unique cold that accompanied the hours before dawn ruled here. The stubborn, lingering traces of the storm that had driven through the night were now completely gone, leaving still nothingness in its wake. The town, too, had been desolate yet unthreatening as they escaped it like soldiers deserting a battleground. Loki guessed Vanaheim’s pirates were too desperate to seek revenge against an enemy who actually fought back.

 

They were stopped now. Loki’s fear was gone. In its place, a strange confidence had arisen. 

 

Well.. maybe not quite confidence. He could settle for  _ composure _ .

 

Thor sat heavily in the tall grass, still breathing shallow and pained, but he was sitting up nonetheless. He was not, however, breaking the silence that had nudged its way in since they had fled. Whether that was born of pain, or anger, or fear, Loki didn’t know.

 

He wasn’t about to let it last, though. “Is it anything I can help with?” he asked, referring to Thor’s obscured pain. His own weariness still hung on him heavy, too nagging for him to think himself capable of doing any more magic. But that did not render him entirely useless. “I still have the medicines I mixed for you back at home. Do you want them?”

 

Thor nodded, but that was it.

 

“You’ll have to actually tell me what hurts, Thor.”

 

“Mm,” he hummed.

 

Loki sighed. “Come on. I can’t reach inside you and find out myself.”

 

As he said it, though, Loki’s stomach dropped. Couldn’t he do such a thing? He’d done it with the wildlife in Alfheim and at home, to such great extent. His strength was limited now, yes, and Thor much more complicated than a few plants and birds. But if he truly focused… would it really be that hard? They shared blood, after all. Certainly that was enough of a connection.

 

Thor began talking before Loki was ready for him to. “Erm… my legs are worse again.” His voice was shaky, though the fact that he could identify his ailments in the first place was a good sign. “I don’t think anything has rebroken, but…”

 

“Wait.”

 

“You just told me to-”

 

“I know what I said. I want to check something first. Just stay still.”

 

Thor gave him a confounded look, but didn’t move. Loki took a deep breath and sat down, closing his eyes, narrowing his focus to fill his mind entirely with the concept of the boy in front of him - his outward appearance, his ambitions, his memories, everything he could draw up from the short time they’d known each other. Slowly, he extended his seidr into that focus, its snaking tendrils poking out curiously, definitely  _ seeing  _ Thor, but not quite feeling enough of what he was looking for. Only a vague pain, an ache tempered by distance… he could see how close it was, but he was too weak to reach it…

 

He almost gave up. He was tiring quickly, trying so hard… but what if he just…

 

Cautiously, he let the smallest modicum of focus return into his body, and with it, he grasped Thor’s hand like he had outside the inn.

 

The floodgates broke. All at once, Thor’s pain surged into him, causing him to cry out, unstifled and loud cutting through the night air, before he recoiled from Thor’s burning skin and retreated back inside himself as quickly as he could. His eyes snapped open. Thor looked entirely unaffected by the entire thing, albeit concerned.

 

“Loki… what did you just do?”

 

Loki paused, still trying to catch his breath. But he could not deny that even reeling from the pain, he felt… alive. “You… are walking around feeling like  _ that? _ ”

 

Thor’s scowl twisted into a sore smile. “I told you I wasn’t feeling well.”

 

“I didn’t disbelieve you.”

 

“What did you  _ do?” _

 

“The same thing I was doing in Alfheim and at home. Perceiving you magically rather than visually. Just… erm, more focused. I just wanted to see if it would work.”

 

“And it did?”

 

“Yes. Unless that was your consciousness trying to, I don’t know, violently reject me.”

 

Thor shifted. “It definitely wasn’t that.”

 

“You could’ve fooled me. Either way, yes, it worked. We need to get you something for that. Whether you think you could handle it or not.” Loki began fumbling around in his pocket for the pain tincture he’d stowed away. He found it quickly (perhaps more quickly than he would’ve liked) and began squinting into the bottle against the starlit sky to see how much they had left.

 

Thor was not sufficiently distracted by this; he seemed stuck on something still. “Why did you have to, um…” he started, somewhat awkwardly as he glanced down at Loki’s free hand.

 

Loki dearly hoped that his face wasn’t turning too red. He stopped feigning his fiddling with the bottle and decided to play ignorant (not that he understood any of that impulse, anyway). “I don’t know. I thought it might help… complete the connection, I suppose? Before I did it, all I was getting was… distant. I could see you, but it was opaque,” he finished, trying to find the words to describe the indescribable thing he had felt. His hand felt warm and sweaty on the glass bottle.

 

“Complete the connection?” Thor joked with a look of faux-disgust.”Isn’t that a little weird? I mean, you are my brother.”

 

“Oh, stop it,” Loki dismissed, but found himself smiling anyway. Despite himself, the tension had broken. This was what he liked most about Thor - even in their darkest moments, the golden prince found light.

 

_ Speaking of darkness… _

 

“Thor, I have a question.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“A serious question.”

 

“Oh.” Thor’s face fell like he suddenly started feeling all of that pain boiling away in his body, after all.

 

Loki set down the pain medicine so his fingers could knit together anxiously and he looked at the ground. The sky was lightening ever so slightly; he didn’t have to do this now.

 

“When you went off to battle…”  _ you can stop,  _ “did you kill anyone?”

 

“No,” Thor replied definitively.

 

“You didn’t?”

 

“No.” This time, his answer was almost… defiant. “I failed in that regard. Are you surprised?”

 

Loki quickly tried to hide whatever expression had come over his face, though he didn’t know whether it was surprise. “I don’t…”

 

“It’s fine. Mock me all you want. I know I deserve it.”

 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Thor! I was just curious!”

 

Thor stood abruptly and turned. Dumbfounded, Loki let him walk away, unsure of how he’d struck such a nerve. Thor couldn’t move very quickly, though, and Loki soon decided that he couldn’t let him suffer along like he was.

 

So he stood, too, chasing after Thor, and took him by the shoulder. When he saw Thor’s face, it was streaked with already-drying tears. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Thor said, voice low and stricken. “It’s not your fault. I’m just…” he swallowed. “I’m ashamed of it. The son of the greatest warrior-king can’t even fell the smallest frost-giant. Hel, I probably couldn’t take a bilgesnipe. Years and years of me thinking I was better than all my friends, and I get out there and couldn’t even hold myself together enough to do so much as hurt one of them? I fell apart, Loki. I couldn’t do the thing I  _ know  _ I was born to do.”

 

“Thor, it’s-”

 

Thor interrupted him, his fire growing and snuffing out Loki’s own churning worry. He shrugged off Loki’s hand but looked him directly in the eye. “And then  _ you  _ come in and save us, and kill them so easily, and do what needs to be done to protect us like it’s  _ nothing _ , and you expect me to not be a little jealous?”

 

Loki’s temper reared up again. “It is not like that, Thor! I didn’t want to do that! I didn’t even think about it, it just happened. I knew we needed to get out of there. It wasn’t…  _ bloodlust _ , or anything like that, I just…”

 

_ That was a lie- _

 

“You think  _ that’s  _ why I went off to battle? Because I thirsted for their dying cries, for the thought of their families in Jotunheim weeping for their loss? Loki, you must truly not know me.” 

 

Loki sunk back. 

 

The breeze began to pick up again and the deep blue of the sky burned bright in Loki’s tearing eyes. He felt as exposed as the exploited fields.  _ Always  _ he failed at imbuing his words with the correct meaning.  _ Always _ what was meant to be comfort instead gestated pain.

 

Thor must’ve noticed his brewing torment, because he sighed and put his hand on Loki’s arm, where his scars from Alfheim were still raised and achy. “I’m sorry. I thought you understood. And I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I still think you do. You’re just… too good at digging down where I don’t want anybody to go. And when you go there, you feel what I feel. Literally, as we saw earlier,” he added with a quiet chuckle.

 

“It’s not intentional.” What Loki really wanted to say was  _ it wasn’t supposed to be about you.  _ But that seemed too uncouth.

 

“My lashing out isn’t, either.”

 

“Mm.” The selfishness of the Odinsons knew no bounds. At least Loki wasn’t alone in that.

 

Thor squeezed his arm. “I think we ought to go to bed. It’s not safe to keep moving when we feel like this.”

 

“Oh, and leave ourselves completely at the mercy of whoever comes by? Great idea.”

 

“No. You make us invisible, and I’ll keep watch while you sleep.” He sounded unreasonably confident in Loki’s current ability.

 

Loki’s grumpiness stubbornly resisted. “What makes you think I’m strong enough to do that? I used a lot of my power last night. I’m hungry, and exhausted, and I’m scared.”

 

“I know you can do it.” He sat back down in the grass, pulling Loki with him. “It’s your turn to trust me.”

 

As Loki was so adept at extracting pain, Thor knew precisely how to blossom hope. Though he said it so nonchalantly, Loki felt a warmth at Thor’s words, one that even his beloved bad mood couldn’t resist. He couldn’t explain it, but knowing that at least one of them was so sure was enough proof for him that Thor would be correct. He had no choice but to relent.

 

“If we die because of this, I will not let you hear the end of it in Valhalla.”

 

Thor grinned. “I accept your wager.”

 

Loki took out their sleeping things from his magical pocket, and Thor spread them out in the grass. Now that it was nearing daybreak, his fear could subside. He laid down, and to his surprise, Thor did the same next to him.

 

“I promise I’ll get up and keep watch once you’re asleep,” he said. Loki seriously doubted that this was an honest statement.

 

“And take your medicine?”

 

“And take my medicine.”

 

Loki whispered the words to turn them invisible, and felt his energy sink even lower. Not low enough to render him afraid of never waking up again, but low enough to make sleep seem like the most delicious thing in the world.

 

He rolled onto his side, closing his eyes and imagining being in that comfortable bed at the inn again. But before long, flashes of flying arrows and fire erupted behind his eyelids, so he stopped. He fidgeted uncomfortably.

 

Without a word, Thor placed his hand back on Loki’s shoulder. He felt very close; he could almost feel the warmth of his breath on the back of his neck, if that was not simply the winter breeze of Vanaheim. But it quieted him enough to come back to where he was. He was not in the inn, he was not in his bed back in the cabin in Asgard. He was out in a field, exposed, in danger, weak, afraid, but he was with his brother, so he was protected. A pattern they had picked up, one that Loki wanted to hold onto as long as he could.


	12. Chapter 12

Dusk approached like dawn. The dimming of light outside Loki’s heavy eyelids was enough to wake him, but gently so. He felt peaceful, comforted even. He was not scared.

 

He laid on the soft ground in a lanky arc, a soft breeze fluttering his eyelashes from where his head rested, turned upwards slightly by the fluffy pillow beneath. A warm weight rested on his spine, but not so much as to be a burden. He recognized the rise and fall of Thor’s breathing against him.

 

A bittersweet smile crossed Loki’s face. He knew his brother had been lying about keeping watch all day.

 

No matter. They hadn’t been found, all was well… all was… quite good, really, wasn’t it? The darkness was so seductive… perhaps he’d be better off falling back asleep. Just a few more minutes, just until Thor woke, or the rain started back up again… they were safe, why not take advantage…

 

Loki resumed his slow and steady breathing, submitting himself to slumber; there was a lovely dream he’d been having, where he had been deep underwater, which felt like opium in his lungs, gazing up at angry storm-rocked waves crashing far above him. He very much wanted to go back to it. He let the cool green-blue fill that space behind his eyes, felt his body sway back and forth so slowly… falling in…

 

His senses all sighed contentedly at once. He was back, floating, free, and this time was even better, for he felt even more sensations than he had before. A delicious warmth blossomed and trailed up his spine, more languid than the water, perhaps a creature from below beckoning him down deeper… no… the touch was… cooling…

 

Loki shuddered and woke. His underclothes  _ actually _ felt wet in the back, just where he’d felt it in the dream. He scooted away from Thor, opening his eyes to see what the Hel had happened, but they were both still invisible, and nothing else was around. Just swaying grass and shadowed puffy clouds sauntering among the early stars.

 

He reached a hand around his back curiously. And then he blushed harder than he ever had in his life. 

 

It wasn’t Thor’s fault, he told himself over and over and over and over. Accidents happen. He’d done it a thousand times, at least, in his own sleep, and never thought a thing of it. But now he was thinking many things. And a good half of them were things that should  _ never _ be thought.

 

So much for his dream.

 

He wiped his hand on the blanket, definitely also  _ not _ thinking about how it would make more sense to just magic it away. Instead, he found a shrewd thought, one that he judged to fit his persona better - wake Thor, and show him, and mock him incessantly for it as Thor had done to him every time the opportunity had arisen. He could very easily turn this around. Be the more powerful of them. The laughing one. If only for a moment.

 

But that would include somehow muting all of the thoughts he’d just had. For all his love of lies, he didn’t quite trust himself enough to hide a secret so shameful.

 

_ Oh… secret? So this is a secret, now? _

 

_ Quiet. It’s nothing. _

 

Thor shifted and the breeze picked up once more and Loki stopped antagonizing himself. Quickly, he whispered a spell to remove Thor’s spend from his back (where do disappeared things go?). And he made them visible again, for good measure. Thor opened his eyes, then rubbed them lazily.

 

“Evening,” he intoned cheerily.

 

“Sleep well?” Loki tried to make the sentiment sound pointed. Accusing, but of the right thing.  _ Only  _ accusing of Thor’s imprudence in letting himself rest when he was supposed to be keeping watch.

 

Thor smiled guiltily and raised himself onto his elbows. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

 

“As did I.”

 

“Oh, don’t say you’re mad at me. We’re fine. So what if I took a little nap?”

 

“I’m not mad. But you’d better be up to a long night of walking, now that we’re both so well-rested.”

 

Thor sat all the way up; Loki noticed that he tried to inconspicuously cover the front of his pants with his shirt. Oh, how Loki would like to see how he felt at  _ this _ moment.

 

“Not a problem.” He looked at Loki, eyes slightly narrowed. “Did your invisibility spell wear off sometime during the day?”

 

“No,” Loki answered, “I stopped it when I woke up. I didn’t see anyone around, and I prefer not to waste my energy needlessly.” As he said it, though, he realized that he didn’t feel drained of any energy at all, despite maintaining the spell all through the day. “It’s deserted out here. At night, I think we’ll see anyone before they see us. And then, I’ll simply reactivate it.”

 

Loki didn’t mention how he wouldn’t have chosen to leave them invisible even if it cost him nothing at all. There was  _ nothing _ strange about wanting to keep an eye on his brother, just in case. It was a trust issue, really. Just that.

 

“Works for me.” Thor didn’t seem too worried by the decision. “So…”

 

“So, I’ve thought about what our best option is going forward. Now, I don’t know how well-connected Vanaheim’s finest is, but I don’t want to take any chances by showing our faces again. It’s back to the original plan, at least until we reach Nidavellir.”

 

“And what was that?”

 

“We remain quiet. Stay in the shadows. We rest during the day, invisible. We move quickly at night and avoid any mark of another soul. And when we run out of food, I steal it for us.”

 

“Steal it?” Thor asked incredulously, though he seemed more concerned about Loki’s demand that it would be  _ him  _ doing the theft and not Thor. “That seems… cruel. They’re struggling enough here as it is.”

 

Loki smiled calmly. “Not from those who need it, of course.”

 

Thor’s mouth twisted and he looked almost jealous. “You want revenge.”

 

“Oh, I think this goes beyond revenge. I already paid back the debt they tried to take from us. This is more of… a lesson.”

 

“I’m not sure I follow.”

 

“Really? I thought it was obvious. The taverns are in on this, too. They’re taking a cut from the bandits by selling out their patrons. That was us. Clear enough?”

 

Thor nodded once. 

 

Loki felt a tickle of pleasure. “They’re proliferating this realm-wide pain. I’m just going to remove some of the tools they’re using to do it. It’ll be a good deed. The least we can do.”

 

Acceptance spread across Thor’s face; Loki was glad he understood. Loki could be noble. He just happened to prefer to do it through devious means.

 

“Well… I suppose that sounds fair. And when you say ‘tools’...” he straightened where he sat, “might that include a weapon? Or… several?”

 

“Now why might my brother need something like that?” Loki teased. He was absolutely planning on stealing them weapons. If not for use in Vanaheim… well, they wouldn’t be able to slip through Jotunheim unseen, no matter what Loki did to conceal them.

 

“I’d feel better knowing we had the option. I don’t like being defenseless, even if we’re invisible. I don’t like much of this plan, to be honest.”

 

“Oh, don’t lie. You have nothing better to suggest.”

 

Thor sighed; he didn’t like being called out for his feeble attempts at fooling Loki. But there wasn’t much he could complain about. This was the only plan that had any chance of getting them through the realm, and they both knew it.

 

“Fine. Are you ready to leave?”

 

“I was ready before you woke up.” Loki stood and magicked their belongings into his pocket with a bit of a flourish. He was feeling particularly show-offish today. Perhaps knowing he had temporarily had power over Thor, even if he hadn’t said a thing about it, was getting to his head already.

 

“Then let’s go. Have you looked at the map?”

 

“No, but we won’t need it. Pretty hard to get lost when all we need to do is walk in a straight line.”

 

“Then how will we know when to expect another town?”

 

Loki sighed exasperatedly. Thor had a point, but he was  _ really  _ starting to get annoying, and suffering his every worry was the last thing Loki wanted to do. “Vanaheim is over a hundred miles wide. We have a  _ long _ damned way to go. It’s not going to happen in a day, or a week. Best get used to it.”

 

He started walking without looking back to see how much he’d pissed off Thor. It was curious how quickly both of their moods and whims changed. But Loki couldn’t be too disgusted by it. In volatility lived strength. No doubt that weeks traversing empty fields with naught but clouds for company would provide the headspace Loki needed to figure out how to harness it in  _ both  _ of them.

 

* * *

 

The unending rhythm of steps, always forward, always alert, weathered Loki’s moodiness over the next several days. Their numbers, stretching into the hundreds of thousands easily now since leaving the tavern, had a tempering effect on any animosity Loki’s words and actions had stirred within Thor. Loki had not seen sufficient evidence that  _ time healed all wounds _ , but walking sure tried to. He supposed that inertia was more important than effort, sometimes.

 

Avoiding notice was almost too easy. They had been following some invisible path several miles south of the border, and the land here was barren and deserted. Even the farmland, which had once been fruitful, had been all but abandoned; the hills were stripped so bare that it was hardly arable anymore. Everything had an air of having given up long ago.

 

The area of Jotunheim that had been stolen from Asgard north of where they traversed posed no threat. The Aesir had long since abandoned trying to keep it, and Vanaheim itself hadn’t been deemed important enough to invade. The Jotuns had no quarrel with poor, magic-lacking farmers. They didn’t eat wheat and pumpkins anyway.

 

The pirates, too, were nowhere to be found. Even closer to the few towns they’d passed, there was little danger of being robbed again. This was good, if boring. Their most dangerous enemy out here was probably flash flooding.

 

That, or each other, when Loki was in a bickering mood. But he tried not to be too often.

 

It was good when they were silent. Loki liked listening to the crickets and the wind kicking up dirt, the fat raindrops hitting mud and the ever-present rhythm of four footsteps that sometimes fell into step in a way that pleased his wandering mind. The sun baked the back of his neck and the rain soothed the burn. Sometimes he ached slightly from looking at the ground, and when he tilted his head back and stretched, he couldn’t resist looking back at Thor, though he knew he was still there. 

 

Thor walked behind him, but he was always looking forward, never at his feet. Every time this caused him to stumble over protruding rocks, it made Loki giggle. It happened often. Often enough that he sometimes wondered whether Thor just liked hearing the sound of his laugh.

 

They had run out of things to talk about rather quickly. Loki wondered whether his brother was overly bored - perhaps hoping he was back home, or off fighting, or back at the tavern when they still thought all was well. Maybe he was thinking about facing Laufey. That was probably it.

 

Loki had his own way to pass the time. He didn’t think Thor would want to hear it, so he enjoyed it alone. It was fairly personal, anyway.

 

He knew that it was rather childish. It even seemed a bit remiss to make light of their situation in this way. But Loki could not stop coming up with stories. 

 

It started with the hawks that flitted above them. Loki wasn’t a romantic, but they had seemed so… wanting, and it only felt appropriate to give them a story to go along. It had been an impulsive, skittish romance, one fit for the fickle breeze, but it had allowed Loki to use vocabulary he didn’t get to use often. Every time he saw another bird after the first time, he gave it a story. He didn’t see many birds.

 

To fill the gap, he came up with other tales, more vague ones, with stone-faced archetypes playing elaborate mental manipulations with each other. They led him through philosophical mazes, opportunities for him to explore moralities and quandaries he otherwise would never see. They made him feel academic.

 

But not all were so fanciful or productive. In fact, most were far from it. Loki’s most guilty daydreams were the one he and Thor personally starred in. 

 

Alone, in the privacy of his own mind, he acted out conversations, situations they might never be in, predicted how Thor would react to certain things, planned what he himself would say to invoke certain emotions, imagined how best to manipulate his brother into seeing things the correct way. That all had use; he knew it would be a skill he’d use in the future, probably many times over. 

 

Not all of what he daydreamt was so utilitarian, though. Sometimes, he’d be wondering how best to get Thor to reveal the unique weaknesses of his mother, for instance, and accidentally find himself picturing the two of them as children, growing up together in her arms, happy and united. The story snowballed until it could hardly be called a story at all, more like a series of rosy images, repeating hazily like memories he’d never had. Playing together, learning together, understanding one another like nobody else ever could, all from the start, with a clear future ruling by the other’s side, unburdened by the weight of honor or duty, because wouldn’t it be  _ them _ who defined those words in the first place? The fantasies always spiraled out of control, and then the  _ real _ Thor would cough or comment on something in the distance, and then Loki would be split in two.

 

And then his reconstructed memories and his philosophical musings would merge.

 

He knew that the split between future and past was never as simple as the concept of “present”. Loki could imagine what history could’ve been, or he could imagine a future with the exact same face and none of the baggage. The endpoint would be the same. There was nothing stopping him from doing the latter, either; it was as possible an outcome to their journey as any other. There was only one problem, one that Thor, he knew, would never have an issue with.

 

In hoping for his golden future, Loki would need to accept responsibility for his present. Loki would need to  _ try.  _ His actions would need to be the ones at fault. Not that of the Odinsons’ parents. And  _ that  _ was something that this slippery, evasive, half-Jotun prince knew that he could not do.

 

So, instead, as they walked, he lived in the past. Rewrote the mistakes of others. Made his contingency plans for their potential future doings. But did  _ not  _ accept, though they were traveling in the most literal sense towards a change in fate, that he owned responsibility for any of the consequences.

 

* * *

 

Thor was insurmountable.

 

Thor was strength. The injuries he’d healed from, the pain he’d endured, the burden he shouldered, were all so strong, and Thor had been stronger. His sheer will surpassed any force Loki had seen.

 

It was unfortunate, then, that willpower was incorporeal.

 

It was the fourteenth night since the attack. Loki had been to two tiny towns already, and had stolen two slim but sturdy swords from the second one. The sneaking and theft had been less of a thrill than he would have appreciated, but that was probably for the best.

 

He could tell that the weapons were burning a hole in Thor’s scabbard. This morning, they rested on a quiet beach fronting a deep blue lake, nestled between rising hills. There wasn’t even a wave disrupting the mirrored surface; all was peaceful. Except Thor. 

 

Thor Odinson held one of the swords aloft, shoulder striking forward to thrust into an imaginary enemy. He leapt gracefully to the side to parry a blow, ducked forwards, sliced up, spun like a dancer. Loki didn’t know much about swordplay, but Thor certainly seemed to. It only made his admission weeks earlier - that he’d never slayed an enemy, or even come close - that much harder to stomach.

 

Obviously it could not be his technical prowess limiting him. His brawn was mighty, his speed striking for one so thick-limbed. No, it had to be something inside him that just didn’t  _ work _ . 

 

This was something that Loki could maneuver with. It had even been the subject of one of his one-man discussions, though he hadn’t come up with any solutions he deemed airtight. Still, he had ideas. But he doubted Thor would ever allow him to discuss it openly, let alone take his advice. 

 

His guess was that the killer instinct originated from somewhere genetic; it was not something one could turn on and off, or train. Loki had it (whether he appreciated that fact or not). Odin certainly had it. Perhaps Freyja didn’t. Loki still knew next to nothing about her. He supposed he could assume a 50/50 chance. Even with only their half-shared blood, he figured that Thor must have it somewhere, locked away. There was a possibility. 

 

If it was locked away, though, what was the key?  _ Was _ there a key?

 

With no evidence to the contrary, the most likely answer, Loki sourly admitted, was that Thor simply had… nothing. By his own admission, he had none of the special powers his parents did, and Loki didn’t detect a hint of buried seidr reserves within him. From what he had felt, only an immense capacity for pain lived under Thor’s skin. It was a shame. Asgard’s future king seemed to be little more than a pretty, stoic face. Maybe it should’ve been him that Odin and Freyja were ashamed of.

 

Still, Loki didn’t entirely trust that analysis. He could not shake the feeling that there was something he had missed. Maybe the key metaphor was all wrong. Maybe the question was not whether a greater power existed in Thor to be unleashed, but how that leash could be pulled taut enough to snap.

 

Loki stood and shook the dark sand from his clothes. He pulled the other sword from its place on the ground.

 

Thor noticed and halted his pantomime. Though it wasn’t hot outside by any means, the humidity had moistened his brow and stuck his shirt to his back. Even after weeks, his scars were still visible through the light fabric.

 

“Come to challenge me, brother?” he called.

 

“Not exactly.” Loki smiled. The sword felt heavy in his hand even resting at his side. “Just a little lesson. I’ve no practice with anything of this size.”

 

That was not entirely truthful. His last foster family before leaving for the cabin had done their best to teach him a small amount of self-defense, thinking it Loki’s only chance at surviving on his own. Loki hadn’t shown them much. Anyway, he was better at offense.

 

Thor smiled wide and beckoned for him to come closer. Loki complied, and before he could rightfully prepare himself, Thor was spinning around behind him, pulling in close and swinging his sword directly towards Loki’s neck to stop  _ just  _ short of it. Loki could smell his sweat and feel the heat radiating off his skin.

 

“Lesson one. Don’t do what your opponent wants you to do.” He sounded unreasonably satisfied with himself.

 

Loki could’ve been angry at him for trying the trick, but instead he laughed. “So you’re my opponent, then? How convenient.” He ducked underneath the outstretched weapon and backed away calmly, assuming a readier position.

 

Thor sighed. “No, that’s all wrong.”

 

“What is?”

 

“How you’re standing. You’ll never be able to generate any sort of power with your feet so close together.”

 

“This is just how I stand!” It was true; Loki had never had a problem with defending himself before.

 

“Indeed, if you want to be killed.”

 

Leaving aside any comment about just how much Thor knew about killing, Loki pouted. “Then why don’t you show me how to do it better?”

 

Thor sighed again, but strode over to help him. He positioned himself behind Loki, then moved each of his legs out, adjusted where he held his weight, tilted his hips, and just when Thor was reaching around to draw his shoulders back-

 

“Hey!” Thor exclaimed, a hint of actual venom in his voice.

 

Loki bit his tongue and snickered, then dropped the small dagger he’d conjured into his sneaky free hand to just  _ slightly  _ nick into Thor’s ribs.

 

“Did you actually mean to stick that in me?” Thor demanded in indignation. This was good. His anger was legitimate.

 

“Just a little bit.”

 

_ “Why?” _

 

“I wanted to.”

 

“That’s not a very good reason. If you wanted to be funny, you could’ve just pretended. I was only trying to help.” He threw his sword on the ground and walked towards the shore. Waves were starting to build far out on the horizon.

 

“And I appreciate it,” Loki added cheerfully.

 

There was a brittle pause before Thor spoke again. “What are you trying to do?”

 

Loki was trying to do many things. Bring out a physical sort of rage in his brother that might activate what he kept so bottled up, teach him not to trust an adversary who could do magic, improve his swordfighting stance. None of this seemed satisfactory an explanation. 

 

“Do you want me to heal it?” he asked instead.

 

“No. It’s nothing.”

 

“Suit yourself.”

 

“I’m tired of you making me feel inferior.”

 

The temperature seemed to drop twenty degrees. The whitecaps reached the shore. And Loki had  _ not  _ been expecting that.

 

“I-I…” he stammered.

 

“That’s all I’m going to say. Take it as you wish. If you want to talk more about it to me, let it be another time.”

 

“Okay.” Loki tried to swallow, but it had suddenly become difficult.

 

“Goodnight, Loki.”

 

“Goodnight, Thor.”

 

He went to bed as usual. Not avoiding Loki, or acting odd or pained. Loki supposed that he had gotten the thing off his chest, and now it was his own turn to grapple with it.   
  



	13. Interlude IV

_ Interlude IV _

 

The lethargic drip of melting ice onto the golden floor gave him away.

 

Heimdall would know exactly where he had been, though Odin was a fool if he thought the seer couldn’t have guessed before. The fact that he had not left the Bifrost observatory immediately after returning would provide many more clues as to what had transpired during his short absence. 

 

Still, Heimdall said nothing. His long tenure as Odin’s closest advisor had taught him discretion. He stood still and silent, his hands unmoving on the sword-key, as if he had turned to stone.

 

Odin took advantage where he could. He waited alone by one of the observatory’s sweeping windows, peering out onto the vast lake that made up Asgard’s center as his ice-fetters melted away. He didn’t say a word; he knew that as soon as he opened his mouth, the secrets would pour out. Would Heimdall, and more importantly, Freyja, be able to endure them? 

 

He shook his head and focused his sight. The gentle waves rocking the surface of the lake did little to obscure its perfect clarity. Their movement made the kelp and grass and small, quick-darting fish sway gracefully back and forth, their own motion relentlessly impacted by that greater force that they could not control nor understand. It calmed Odin to watch.

 

On the horizon, in the center of it all, the world tree tried to weather on.

 

Nowadays, even the slightest and most pleasant of breezes tore a golden leaf or ten off. It had been nigh-unnoticable at first, but now chunks were bare and cold, visible even with the naked eye from the shore. Its foundation was still strong - Odin thought - but its beauty, its ebullient visage was withering. He was not sure whether he would prefer it to rot from the inside out while the image of it remained perfect.

 

He shivered slightly, though the Asgardian winter was mild. The fetters were at least half-melted now. He could break them off soon. Toss them in the water to disappear, rather than leaving them on the observatory floor to puddle and slowly evaporate. A few more minutes and it would be time.

 

And then he would have to go see Freyja.

 

He owed her no explanation for his actions. He could remain mute on what Laufey had said about his realm, his obedience, his son. He could act cordial and kind and  _ lie.  _ He was under no obligation to share any bad news.

 

But something tugged in his gut, and he hated that it was probably love. He couldn’t help the way he felt about her, just as he couldn’t control himself about Laufey. It might’ve been Thor’s fault that he felt this way, but he  _ did  _ feel this way, and Freyja had used it in her own favor for as long as the boy had lived.

 

Moreover, he could not deny that her love for Thor was just as important as his own, if not more. Even if he owed her nothing on his own account, there were other reasons she deserved to hear what he had discovered.

 

Odin was positive that Thor himself would never wish for his mother to be left in the dark regarding any danger he was in; he was never a secretive boy. Odin had disrespected his firstborn before - too often, and far too directly - but he did not think this was an action his conscience could approve of. Thor had enough reasons to never forgive him already. Perhaps it was time for him to try earning his trust back. It would be in a roundabout way, but Odin was trying, and that was impressive in itself.

 

He felt a rush of vague emotion, confirming that this was what he had to do. His hands were wet and cold. How sweet it might feel to have them dried and embraced by a warm touch. He lifted them and slammed the icy links that connected them against the wall. Their shattering against the plate metal resounded low and booming through the observatory.

 

He was free, his secrets were out, his shame consumed. It was all thanks to his progeny. Everything was.  
  



	14. Chapter 14

“-Thor gone, I don’t know how much longer we’ll all be out here.”

 

“Can’t disagree. Even Yrsa had seemed _this_ close to giving up.”

 

“Giving up? Really? You think they’d just let the Jotuns destroy us.”

 

“It’s not that, just-”

 

The first voice butted in. “Yrsa’s dead. She _did_ give up. They haven’t sent another commander out to replace her. Be honest. Do you think Odin cares about us one bit?”

 

“Well, no, but-”

 

“We’re nothing to him. Or else we wouldn’t be out here still. How long has it been since we’ve had any good news, Skuli? Or any news at all? There’s _one_ thing Odin cares about.” The voice paused for effect. “The way I see it, the Jotuns got Thor. The prince wouldn’t just _leave_ . Hel, he couldn’t. Heimdall would find him like _that._ And if they got him, and Odin can’t do anything about it, he’s probably already dead. So what’s Odin even got to live for anymore? It’s clear as day. We’ve got no chance. We’re wasting our time.”

 

The was a silence through which Loki heard a crackling fire and the sick yet tantalizing sounds of flesh being ripped from thin bones as the Asgardian soldiers ate a meager dinner. It was dusk once more, and the soft sand of the beach they’d slept at the preceding day had provided him an ample rest. He had given thought to what Thor had said the night before, had tried to identify when and where he’d wronged his brother. That had been the easy part: always, and all of it. Still up in the air was the decision of whether to change how he treated him. It wasn’t as if Thor never made him _“feel inferior”_ either.

 

It was to be a point of embitterment for a while unless he figured out how to fix it soon.

 

But why should he fret about that when there was someone to eavesdrop on? He rolled onto his side and opened his eyes. Not ten yards away sat three men and two women dressed in unmistakable armor, sitting around a small driftwood campfire. He could feel their dour energy radiating like stifling heat.

 

After the weeks spent alone save for Thor, it was very strange to see other people, let alone Asgardians. But at least they made for good proof that his invisibility spells had been working.

 

He did regret, however, that he couldn’t simply speak to Thor to wake him up; the soldiers were far too close for him to risk even a whisper. So instead he poked out with his magic, finding his brother still beside him, but didn’t prod any further as not to wake him. With luck, he would sleep until full darkness had fallen, and they could sneak out quietly and hope that the Asgardians’ lookout was rather drowsy. Or perhaps Thor was already awake and was doing precisely what Loki was doing. As long as he didn’t rip off his blankets and loudly exclaim _good morning_ , they would be fine.

 

Loki sat up and decided to listen more presently. One of the women tossed a flesh-stripped bone into the fire and grimaced so deeply that Loki could see it even from his imperfect vantage point.

 

“What’s your plan then, Einarr?” she asked, her voice dripping with frigidity.

 

One of the men lifted his head from where he sat hunched over his knees and Loki recognized his voice as the gossipy one from earlier. “Go home. Yrsa’s dead,” he repeated. “Odin doesn’t give a shit if we desert anymore, I guarantee you that. We’re not doing anything helpful out here. You can’t tell me you’re not tired of this.”

 

The other woman laughed. “You really think we’re getting home? The elves sure as Hel won’t allow us through.”

 

“That’s not what I’m suggesting,” the man replied. “I say we go straight north.”

 

The replies were cacophonous; they filled the hazy twilit air like buzzing gnats.

 

“Have you lost your mind?”

 

“Norns, Einarr.”

 

“You’re funny.”

 

The first woman remained silent.

 

He continued. “All I’m saying is that I think the danger they’ve told us all about is overrated. If we were an army, sure, we’d be decimated straight away. But I don’t see why five of us can’t sneak through the line. It’s only a few miles wide. And even the giants can’t see through that storm.”

 

“A few miles of ice and snow blowing at us hard enough to freeze our skin clean off. And bloodthirsty monsters lurking in the white. Nothing to be afraid of,” the second woman said with a smirk in her voice.

 

“You don’t want to go home?”

 

“I don’t want to be killed.”

 

“We’ll be killed either way if Odin really has given up. At least this way we’d die with a few days of peace at our backs.” Having finished his meal, Einarr rested back on his hands, fingers digging like little rodents into the sand.

 

The group went quiet again. Loki was trying not to think of what would happen if Odin really did surrender. He didn’t think such a thing would’ve ever been possible for his father, but he also would’ve never guessed Odin to have such a… history with Jotunheim. And that wasn’t even getting into the issue of Odin having nothing to live for without Thor. This was just gossip. Odin had Loki.

 

Or… not. Because of Loki, Odin had nothing. They were as good as dead as far as he knew. And if these soldiers were correct… there was much more riding on their mission’s success than Loki could’ve ever predicted. And he still didn’t know what “success” meant.

 

Gossip, it seemed, did have use.

 

“I’m still not convinced,” the first woman finally said. “I say we wait here for now. When we can agree upon something, we’ll leave.”

 

Einarr tipped his head to the side. “I look forward to convincing you.”

 

\---

 

Luck was a fickle thing. Just when Loki thought they’d stumbled upon a break, that the Norns were smiling down upon them and blessing their noble journey, the winds turned, and things ended up worse than they’d started.

 

It so happened that Vanaheim wasn’t entirely devoid of life. When the Asgardian soldiers had finally fallen asleep, assisted by fat skins of sour wine no doubt, Loki roused his brother. Thor was bright-eyed and as cheery as Loki had expected him to be, though he sensed a shade running deeper through his mind. Perhaps he had, too, overheard what the soldiers had said about their father.

 

This was all fine and fair. They checked the map, packed up their sleeping supplies, refilled their water-bladders from the clear lake, undid Loki’s invisibility spell, and searched the skies for any disturbances in the clouds they needed to keep aware of. Then they went to eat a small breakfast before setting out.

 

Their food was nowhere to be seen.

 

The packaging, however, was. And it was ripped to shreds by, from the look of it, a pack of starving rabbits.

 

Loki felt the specific sinking feeling of assurance that if someone else had suffered this misfortune, he’d be laughing at them for it. And if he didn’t have to be quiet, he would be cursing loudly, as he _was_ the one who had suffered it. But he couldn’t risk waking the Asgardians. Confining the shouting to his head would have to do.

 

When he had calmed enough to lower his voice, he spoke. “Thor, you can sit back down.”

 

“Why?” Thor asked, turning around from where he’d been adjusting his boot laces. “....oh.”

 

“Yes. Oh.”

 

“So…”

 

Loki sighed. “You saw the map. There’s nothing but grass for thirty miles west of here. Can you make it thirty miles without eating?”

 

Thor looked like he was fighting with the part of himself that wanted to say yes. “Probably not.”

 

“Me neither. And you know what that means.”

 

Thor nodded thoughtfully. “Can I come with you?”

 

A chill breeze picked up and Loki bit his tongue. “I suppose, if you really want to.”

 

“That makes it sound like _you_ don’t want me to.”

 

That might’ve been the truth. Loki was much quicker doing this sort of thing alone, and the journey would give him the space he needed to work through what exactly to do about Thor and his damned habit of taking everything Loki said the wrong way.

 

“Do you want to come with me, Thor?” He could not manage to keep a scowl out of his voice. That was _probably_ not a good start to this “treating Thor as an equal” thing. Exactly why he needed the time to think about it in the first place.

 

Thor abandoned his pack and sat down defiantly. “No. It’s fine. Gives me time to train. You won’t leave me unarmed, will you?”

 

Loki almost laughed, because he _had_ wanted to - it would be safer if Thor didn’t move a muscle at all until he returned - but now he really had no choice but to give Thor this smallest of kindnesses. “Of course I will. And I’ll be back before you know it. There’s really nothing to fret about. It’s not the worst misfortune that could’ve befallen us.”

 

“You’re right. Thank you, brother.”

 

It was an awkward farewell. Loki resented that once he had learned of the rift that had opened between them, and even _wanted_ to mend it, he instead had to go and make it bleed.

 

“I’ll see you in eight hours, maybe. Oh, and here,” he added, cloaking the both of them in invisibility once more.

 

“I’ll miss you,” Thor replied.

 

Loki wasn’t sure whether he was being sarcastic or not. He took off as quickly as he could.

 

* * *

 

The journey back to town had been a quiet one. Loki had been hungry, and he usually hated how much hunger spoiled his ability to think, but this time it had given him an adequate reason to avoid the Thor topic for a few hours.

 

He had found the tavern, and taken more of what he had the first time: a few loaves of bread, half of a hard cheese wheel, and enough sausages to keep Thor satisfied for weeks, among other random foodstuffs that sounded good to his aching stomach. After he had taken the necessities, he hadn’t been able to resist a half-eaten bar of chocolate somebody had left out in the cellar, which he scarfed down without even waiting to leave. He considered leaving the wrappings torn all over the floor as payback, but he doubted that the hungry rabbits lived at the inn.

 

It was risky to take so much so soon after the first time. He had become accustomed to only stealing what they needed so as to not attract undue notice. But they hadn’t a choice, and it wasn’t as if he was about to be caught. The trip itself had been as uneventful as he’d wished for, and it set his worries alight that things might not going so smoothly for Thor.

 

But there was little he could do about that from afar; even if he were to reach his magic out to its fullest extent, he was still miles away from contact. He was returning, now, following the path of the moon west towards the horizon. It was a still night, probably the quietest the wind had been since they had entered Vanaheim. Loki was full, hydrated, not even remotely tired, and he no longer had any excuse for avoiding practicing the difficult conversations that he was certain would arise soon.

 

The first time, he wasn’t even trying. It was as though Thor started whispering into his ear.

 

_Brother, all I want is to be your hero._

 

Loki bit his lip and fought back a smile. It was astoundingly cliche, hilariously direct, and he would’ve laughed at himself for even thinking it, if not for the fact that he knew it was undoubtedly something Thor would say.

 

He decided to play into the fantasy and shot back without aiming. _I don’t want a hero. I’m capable of doing this on my own. I started this war, and I’m going to end this. There is no room for you._

 

(His internal self, to his internal Thor, was much less secretive than in their actual interactions.)

 

That annoying ache he always had now for solitude. It was an easy place to start. However, he knew that argument contained fatal flaws. For why did he allow Thor to come with him if he didn’t need the help? Why had he saved Thor in the first place, so many miles ago back at his own doorstep? He could have simply sent him home. Or snuck off in the night and abandoned him completely. They weren’t _really_ brothers.

 

But his own issues were beside the point. He was stalling. What was done was done, and he could only change what had yet to occur. More specifically, he could only choose his battles before they started. And he really needed to start choosing fewer.

 

This was to be a difficulty. If there was one thing Loki loved, it was a futile argument that he knew he could win. It was clear: he had to silence that part of himself that wanted to be… himself. The dismissive, independent, argumentative, secretive part that made up… well, all of him. If that was what Thor wanted. He could be congruous with Thor, or he could be himself.

 

_No, Thor, neither of those things will work. I’ll change your mind._

 

How, though? And why was it such a given that he must care about their relationship anyway? A rhetorical question, to be sure, but one that elicited a certain pain in Loki that he sensed was a hidden answer that he had yet to decipher.

 

Instead of picking into that wound, though, he went back to the beginning. Thor. Not him.

 

What was the foundation upon which Thor built his conscience? Heroism was a massive part of it, that much was inarguable. But Loki knew the stories. Heroes died. And the Norns had not yet bestowed that ending upon the prince. There had to be something deeper to his persona, something that drove him when the desire to save others had stopped. Unless Thor was only along for this ride because he thought he was saving his brother, which was the most laughable concept of all.

 

Their conversations, so fruitful during the first few days of their journey, had not delved much into Thor’s character besides his achievements and points of pride. From all of that, he seemed a run of the mill prince, an athlete, a wannabe warrior, a loved and loving son. Loki should’ve been annoyed by all of that. But in memory, he found nothing of the sort. There had to be a reason.

 

He could think about Thor’s recent history and reasons for leaving the castle. But those decisions may have been nothing beyond desperation. Desperation did bring out one’s grittiest instincts, Loki knew, but it was also fertile ground for overanalysis. (Which he was prone to doing, anyway, but knew not to feed into it too much.)

 

Lastly, he could examine each and every word, all twelve of them, that Thor had said to him since his great reveal. This would be even less helpful.

 

Digging through all of this gave Loki the distinct impression that he was searching the wrong ground. Thor was not much of an orator. He was a man of action. A man of emotion, which came out physically. His words probably meant very little.

 

Loki was onto something with that, he knew it.

 

This new trail excited him. It was different, to be sure. Loki loved words; he loved parsing out meaning, exploring new combinations of them, hearing what lurked under the surface of those textured sounds and clean-cut letters. But this made far more sense. Thor wasn’t him. If he was to understand Thor, it would be by feeling and watching, not listening.

 

Which, he realized, he had been unconsciously doing since their meeting. Something had always drawn his eye to the blonde hair and clear eyes. It wasn’t completely out of the question that that thing had been utter bewilderment.

 

Still, the brothers had to share something. Loki tried to inhabit it: turn off the endless slew of words through his mind and concentrate on the movement of his legs driving him forward through the matted green grass. He looked at the moon and felt its light piercing through his own green eyes. He imagined those he wished pain upon. He imagined himself inflicting that pain. And he realized what it was that they had in common.

 

 _Rage_.

 

Rage was their connection. Rage at their father. Rage at Laufey. Rage at the realm for being the way that it was. Rage dulling Thor to the terrible pain he endured. Rage ever driving them forwards, bashing into each other at times, but ultimately uniting them. It was a power source. It explained it all.

 

His mind flooded with images; blood and stormclouds and unyielding metal and bone breaking and cold, unshakable cold, spreading like pain through nerves-

 

Loki actually stopped in his tracks. He put his head back and smiled. He had been such an idiot.

 

Once more, he allowed himself to think, and think as he normally did. He could work with this particular trait. Their connection, though his understanding of it was tenuous, existed. And if this was what forged them together, Loki knew that it had to be more powerful than he had even so far seen. Making things worse would make them better. And making things worse was something that Loki was very, very good at.

 

Full of the self-satisfied feeling of having figured everything out, Loki almost wanted to skip back to camp. The prospect of having deciphered his brother _and_ a viable way forward for enhancing their relationship was a strong liquor, indeed. He had something to fall back on, now - something to remember when Thor was being annoying, something to respect when Thor was being stupid. If Thor had any sense at all, he would see the same in Loki when they clashed.

 

Upon his return, Loki would begin with an apology. He owed Thor some genuineness, and more importantly, it would butter him up for the next part, as Thor loved being told he was right all along. Now, if Loki were speaking to someone far more like himself, he would then move into a detailed analysis of his thought process to find the conclusion he’d found, complete with an exploration of their conversations and personalities, comparisons of their differences, and definitions of the terms he found most important. But he wasn’t, and he knew that Thor appreciated brevity.

 

So he would get right to the point.

 

“Thor, I believe I’ve discovered something.” He would leave out the parts he didn’t understand to ensure that his announcements would not be misunderstood.

 

“I’ve thought about it, and I think you have much more power than you think.” This would excite him; what more could a practically mortal prince ask for than a sudden revelation of power untold?

 

“I can show you how to unlock it.” Loki didn’t really know what he meant by that part.

 

“You only have to let go. Let go, and strike, and let the thunder echo.” He cringed internally at his own metaphor. Trite, but it _did_ seem fitting.

 

This was all very vague, he knew. He would go into further detail, but wanted Thor to ask the questions that he wished to answer. Thor was very strange, as warriors go, insofar as he seemed perfectly convinced that he was kind and sweet and incapable of truly hurting anyone. Bringing up the rage topic so quickly could offend him. Loki would need to be sensitive to that if he was to do what he knew was possible.

 

At the minimum, he hoped that Thor would appreciate his concern. Even if he was unwilling to accept the anger churning inside of him, he could be glad that Loki was trying to attune to his needs. Loki was being selfless!

 

Selfless, yes, and especially so once Thor felt fully secure and happy with his brother again. Then he could determine where and when he wanted Thor to strike unencumbered by their annoying little arguments on the road, and, just as he was doing now, decide how to set him off.

 

He had not decided upon a target. That, he knew, would be determined by whichever tide he felt rising through the rest of their journey. Whether it would be Laufey or not… Loki had a dark feeling about it either way.

 

He shook himself slightly. Always getting too far ahead of himself, he was. It would be wiser for him to test his Thor barometer out a few times before such a showdown could happen. Teach the boy to practice letting his anger out like a good little god. The mixture of fear and excitement _that_ mental image gave Loki set his heart racing and his stomach squirming.

 

Pleased with his plan, the young Odinson trotted back to camp with a bubbliness he heretofore did not know he had. The night was almost exhausted, and the air was still; he could just now see the bumpy ridge of hills that made up their lake’s southern shore. Finally, things were right in his world once more. (Well, not quite yet, but he had a plan to make them right, and that was as good as them being right already.) Loki had things under control, and lately, that was the only way he could bear them.

 

He continued on as the moon sunk lower and lower and smiled when he finally came upon the lake once more; he had reached it much more quickly than he had anticipated. It was still smooth as glass, stretching out for miles, black except for that warm circle of white reflected near the beach.

 

Loki’s gaze continued downwards as he drew close enough to see shapes below on the shore. The Asgardians had left their camp - rather early, Loki thought, but a welcome departure to be sure. He slid down the sloped and sandy hill to where they had been camped.

 

“So… did you miss me?” he asked, in his distinct mocking-yet-cheerful tone.

 

Silence greeted him back. Somewhere far away, a bird screeched in a terrible impression of waking song.

 

“Thor?”

 

Loki was frozen. He undid the invisibility spell. He was alone.


	15. Chapter 15

The air was empty; Loki was drowning.

 

_ gonegonegone _

 

_ Thor cut back open, black blood leaking from a still-pumping heart, lungs withering, broken, broken- _

 

And then all in his mind went blank.

 

He stared out, beyond the lake, motionless, not even bothering to blink, devoid of all thought besides the word. There was no mistaking it. Thor had left. He had done the one thing Loki knew he wouldn’t do. He had lied.

 

Loki’s aloneness had turned cold. Sensing his fear, a smirking figure sauntered into his mind.  _ “Poetic justice” _ , it suggested. And then it crept away, and Loki could think again.

 

So Loki had abandoned Odin, so he had abandoned so many notions of family before, so he had left the only place he could have ever called home, so he  _ couldn’t  _ abandon Thor, even when he had truly considered it. Thor had done the thing that Loki could not. He had even given a warning first. And now Loki could not ignore what Thor had taught him about himself: he was repellent, grating, thorny. A powerful force for no one but himself.

 

He deserved this.

 

He wasn’t alone, though; through all of his years in the cabin, he’d learned to find solace in the life around him. He watched the world in its movement for a few moments to try and calm himself. Orange-plumed ducks landed on the lake, upsetting its glassiness. They dove deep and reemerged far too early, in Loki’s opinion. Insects buzzed where the water met the land. The crickets were annoyingly loud.

 

They were not the only thing annoying Loki. He had unearthed a deep well of sorrow, but he still felt like he was floating on its surface. Was it because he still had hope that him and Thor would one day find each other again? Maybe even reconcile? All because Loki had pulled himself out of the darkness and  _ changed _ and became the person Thor wanted him to be? (If he ever actually managed to do that, of course.)

 

Or was it because he was finally unburdened.

 

Loki bit his tongue. He shouldn’t lie to himself like that. He was not unburdened, for the burden of brotherhood couldn’t be taken away, neither by abandonment nor by death. 

 

No, he had a responsibility now. After all he had figured out and all he still wanted to learn about Asgard’s prince, he couldn’t let inaction stand. It wouldn’t be helpful to either of them to leave Thor to believe himself right, especially when doing so provided him gratuitous evidence to support all of his obvious reasons for leaving. Maybe this action was as simple as a cry for help.

 

A cry that Loki could not resist. This was an explanation that Loki could live with. It wouldn’t do for him to continue on alone. He needed Thor, but more importantly, Thor needed him. The boy was no good left to his own devices.

 

Loki made his decision and steeled himself to leave. But his damned conscience was back. Apparently, it couldn’t rest even when he was doing the right thing.

 

_ The right thing, yes, but for what reason? _

 

If Loki was to be more honest - brutally honest, the type he hated the most, though he knew there was no use in denying this any longer - he knew that he would grow bored without Thor. But that wasn’t all of it. He knew there was something darker. In the smallest of ways, with Thor, Loki had tasted control, through helping him heal but also in his inchoate machinations with Thor’s emotions. The latter part of that was an addictive thing in particular. Thor leaving him proved that he wasn’t very good at it, at least not yet. 

 

Getting Thor back would mean getting his plaything back. And Loki was always a possessive one.

 

Well, he thought, that was just something he would have to accept. And so, with the sun warming his back, he straightened, collected himself once more, and left the beach. For the first time, he was grateful for how predictable his brother was.

 

* * *

 

The unmarked but unmistakable route north provided ample opportunity for Loki’s mistakes to play over in his head. He should have brought Thor with him. He should have taken the sword or otherwise cemented Thor in place. He shouldn’t have been such an ass to Thor in the first place.

 

But he was rectifying all of that, wasn’t he? There was no need for guilt. Atonement absolves guilt. Right?

 

Loki gruffly stomped through the mud, heavy with snowmelt, the cold seeping through his boots even with the mild temperature and sun. He knew he should not be expecting anything like atonement. It was most likely that he would find nothing at all. And he would be lucky to find a corpse.

 

Then, he could feel as much guilt as Thor wanted him to. But only then.

 

It hadn’t taken long for Loki to see the fruits of his journey. Just as the Asgardians had said, an impenetrable white cloud hung low in the distance, obscuring everything after the sodden plains of Vanaheim ended. He knew that the snow there would be omnipresent, unavoidable, tainting with bitter tendrils the soil that had once given a home to fields of wildflowers. Snow like Loki had never seen. Blinding, suffocating. If there was any good to come out of this blasted excursion, it would be to prepare him an ounce more for what was to come when they finally reached the mass of Jotunheim.

 

More oppressive than his mantra of personal shortcomings was the nagging doubt that Thor had even gone this way. Loki was quite sure that he’d quietly followed the Asgardians once they had packed up and left, but he had no guarantee that the confident soldier had convinced the rest of them to come this way. Hel, they could’ve gone back to the same tavern Loki had just been to, and he had been too self-absorbed to notice. If they had any brains, it’s what they’d have done. Maybe Thor was there, too, searching for him, invisible and frustrated in that cellar, because he had just missed his brother  _ so _ much and couldn’t wait any longer to see him.

 

This made Loki feel even more bitter.

 

No, as annoying as his other theories were, Loki knew they were wrong. He  _ knew  _ Thor had gone home.  _ Obviously  _ he missed his family more than he missed Loki. 

 

But his family wouldn’t find him, and Loki would. Unless he made it to Asgard. And he wouldn’t. 

 

As Loki walked, he searched the ground. The grass made it hard to discern any muddy footprints that might be underfoot, but he knew they were there, he could feel it. He shut off his wandering mind. He would be correct. He would find Thor with his magic. Even the snow couldn’t obscure that. 

 

And then, he would make a promise. They would see Odin again, as heroes, not as cowards. Thor would get all that he wanted, in time.

 

The air was growing colder. Loki took a chance and reached out, extending his consciousness to probe for anything more complicated than a plant.

 

Nothing, not even a mosquito. He started walking faster. His leggings would be splattered with mud, but he didn’t care.

 

Thankfully, the last few miles flew by in a haze. Before long, he had reached the border; it was as apparent as if a wall had been erected there: Vanaheim was wet and muddy and mild, and then suddenly there was snow, several feet of it sloping up and up until the horizon was indiscernible and naught but white. Where he could still see through the low clouds, bluish ice that had crusted up on the powder shone threateningly. The weak sunlight penetrating through had no chance to melt such a thing. The wind screamed at him.

 

It didn’t occur to Loki to put his cloak on, so he stepped forward. And he was home.

 

In his presence, the atmosphere startled. The wind slowed, the deluge stopped, he felt no chill. The air seemed comforted by him. 

 

In a different time, he would dwell on what this meant for hours - that the rumors about the Jotuns were true, for instance, and that Odin had not been lying about his parentage, and that they would possibly even have a chance of survival when they entered Jotunheim proper. But he had more important things to do. 

 

The snow held his weight easily and he walked as he did on solid ground. He blindly stayed the course north; if the Asgardian had been correct, he would find them soon - there was no way they could travel as fast as he was. The way he almost floated over the snow was unnatural, and he would have to answer for it someday. That is, if he made it out alive, and if he found a witness.

 

Once more, he reached out, hoping he was close enough to detect any living thing, since his vision was doing him no good. What he found was not Thor.

 

Loki could see again, not with his eyes. The landscape was laid bare to him. Each particle of the snow and ice felt as alive with fecund energy as the plants, animals, the bacteria, anything he had felt before. It stopped him in his tracks. In the wasteland, all was alive.

 

But he needed to retain focus, though he knew he could sit down in the snow, sink into its cold embrace and feel the complexity of the blessed material all around him; absorb all that Jotunheim was and abandon all thought of who he was before. Instead, he kept moving. He must not be distracted even by the swirling, multiplying, sparkling, beautiful ice all around.

 

He didn’t close himself off, though, so it was not long before he found the smallest of lapses. His heart sputtered. It had to be Thor.

 

He followed the feeling, skating over the fragile powder to find his brother. It did not take long. The clouds parted, and he saw red.

 

Thor was not as mangled as the first time they met. Sprawled out on the snow, his eyes were closed, his mouth hung open, his coat was torn, and everywhere Loki could see skin, it was rubbed raw and was turning blackish. The bodies around him, unmistakably the Asgardians, were in far worse condition. 

 

Thor did not stir, but Loki couldn’t have found him if he were not alive. He collapsed by his side, feeling for a pulse and finding blistering warmth beneath the frostbitten skin. He seemed almost uninjured. His eyes opened.

 

Loki had to resist the very strong urge to call him many horrible, brutal names. So, instead, he smiled.

 

Thor coughed and Loki tensed at the familiar sound. He tried to sit up, but kept sinking deeper into the endless snow.

 

“Let me,” Loki muttered. With luck, Thor was too concussed to notice that something was odd about the way the storm reacted to his totally-also-Asgardian brother.

 

Thor looked woozily up at him and grasped his arm in an embrace that made Loki want to cry. And then he passed out once more.

 

With a strength he didn’t know he had, Loki picked his brother up and carried him like a child in his arms. He patiently strode back towards Vanaheim. The blood dripping onto the snow subsided. The storm abated.

 

* * *

 

Loki was unable to detach from his brother, even for a moment.

 

They were back, out in the open, just over the border. Loki sat peacefully while Thor rested on him. He no longer cared whether they were seen, or really noticed anything beyond the scope of the small circle of grass matted down by their presence. The heat here was uncomfortable after the soothing chill of Jotunheim, and Thor’s touch only added to that. Loki would have it no other way. 

 

The boy’s injuries were nowhere near fatal, nor would they slow him down much when they resumed their journey. But he was clearly very drained, and Loki had been letting him sleep, cradled in his lap. Already, he looked better. It was not like last time. They were stronger. What Loki should have been afraid of was not the blood, nor the frostbite (which, somehow, was already healing over). It was the conversation they would need to have once Thor awoke.

 

As if Loki had been projecting his fears into Thor’s dreams, he stirred. He nestled his head deeper into Loki’s legs, grasping onto his arm with brittle-boned hands. Loki brushed the hair away from his face. His eyelashes shone bright in the sunlight and his lips were cracked. He was quite obviously awake.

 

“I needed you,” Thor whispered. 

 

The words pierced Loki like daggers, but the corners of his mouth turned upwards anyway. “You did.”

 

He expected Thor to sit up right away, to retreat from his childlike positioning in Loki’s arms to something more dignified. Didn’t he always want to seem older? Yet this vulnerability said a million more apologies than any of his words could. And so Loki held him. And he did not cease the movement of his fingers exploring Thor’s dirty blonde hair.

 

Loki let his head drop closer to Thor’s. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Do you want to hear my apology? Or are you going to ask why I left? What happened to us afterward? Or whether your spell held up? You’re being uncharacteristically tolerant.” His voice was still breathy and dark.

 

“I’m just going to be grateful that I have you back, to be honest.” It was very strange. Loki was revealing far too much. But if this built Thor’s trust in him, that would be more valuable than any lie he could conjure.

 

Thor smiled a bit and leaned into Loki’s hand on his head. “Maybe I just wanted to see whether you’d come find me.”

 

“That’s a feeble lie, brother.”

 

“But you did.”

 

“But I did.”

 

The silence fell like a blanket, and Loki didn’t mind it, for once. He did want answers, of course. But he wanted Thor back and happy, as well, and he wanted Thor to be grateful for him, and he wanted to seem like he had changed. He thought he was doing a very good job of that. Perhaps, with time, he would convince himself of the ruse too.


	16. Chapter 16

It was fascinating to Loki how the disentanglement was always more awkward than the act of sustaining entanglement itself. As the boys had rested, their intimacy had seemed so natural. Loki’s presence alone seemed to be healing Thor, but he didn’t think it held a candle to how much having Thor back did for him. Suddenly, sitting quietly in each other’s arms had seemed like the most critical thing they could do. The slow journey of the sun over them was a reminder that it could not last.

 

Thor stood first, perhaps finally brought back to lucidity by the buzz of the evening cicadas, and a weight settled on them. Loki missed his touch once it was gone, but felt a strange sense of guilt, too; it filled the empty space that Thor had left but refused to explain itself. Unintelligible guilt was not something Loki appreciated.

 

“I suppose we should leave,” Thor said with affected formality. He scanned the horizon for movement, but Loki knew it was futile. There was nobody out here, and possibly there would never again be.

 

He nodded, though, swallowing hard and trying to will himself back to normalcy. He rose and followed Thor, but tried not to look at him too much, instead busying himself by rummaging around to find the food he’d stolen. He offered some of it to Thor before taking a very large bite of bread. At least it would give him something to do with his mouth.

 

“Thanks. I suppose it’s time for me to tell you what happened.” He walked confidently and spoke loudly; Loki was grateful that his cheerfulness was usually contagious and that his injuries were all but forgotten.

 

“If you… want to,” Loki managed to get out as he chewed.

 

“I suppose you can guess most of it. Obviously, I was awake and heard the soldiers talking, as I’m sure you did. Even I couldn’t sleep through that. And, well, you heard them. At first, I couldn’t figure out if I thought they were lying or not. About Father.”

 

“Why would they be lying? They didn’t know you were there.”

 

“Mm. Right.” Thor paused. “They could have been wrong, though. Doesn’t matter. Either way, I had doubts. And I chose their uncertainty over yours.”

 

Loki’s brows furrowed; Thor was being enigmatic again, and he didn’t think it was accidental. “Thor, be clear with me.”

 

There was a little hiccup in Thor’s stride. “I wanted to see them again, brother. Our parents… they need me. Freyja, especially, needs me more than I need her, and picturing her trying to comfort Father… it hurt. Not that going back north and traveling the long journey through Asgard with some relative strangers was my only chance to ever see them again, or anything, but I got caught up in the moment. It didn’t help that you had just been so dismissive with me. I know this is harsh, but even before that, I was getting pretty damned tired of you. Like I said before. You made me feel inferior, and this was my opportunity to prove that I wasn’t inferior. That I could survive Jotunheim and come home, without your help.” He waited, as if there was something else he wanted to add but couldn’t decide how to put it to words. Loki didn’t press him. Quickly, he spat it out. “The fact that I failed doesn’t nullify that sentiment, Loki. I still think that. I still want you to understand, and I still want you to see me as an equal. I think I deserve that. I’m not going to take your contempt anymore.”

 

Loki was surprised by how well Thor had articulated those feelings, and he was more surprised by how reasonable he found it. “I agree.”

 

“You do?”

 

“I dwelled on this the entire time I was gone.”

 

Thor’s pace slowed. “And… what did you decide?”

 

It took Loki but a split second to decide that he was ready to tell Thor everything. “That I was trapped in a cycle of misunderstanding you.”

 

He laughed a little. “And you say I don’t speak clearly enough.”

 

“That’s part of my point, Thor. We can be equals, yes, but that doesn’t make us the same. This is natural for me. The secrets and lies, it’s who I am. You are not like that. I don’t want you to be like me, as much as you seem to think I do.” Their talk was not going in the direction Loki thought it would, but the core of his argument was the same, if the words he was using to explain it were different. Moreover, this conversation felt long overdue, and the more they talked, the more his fear subsided. This is what Loki loved about having a brother: Thor seemed to appreciate what he had to say whenever he actually wished to.

 

“You think I want to be like you?” He laughed again, rather uncomfortably this time. “I think you’re still misunderstanding me. I had a life before you, Loki. I think you forget that.”

 

There was both truth and fiction in his statement. Instead of probing it, Loki went for a different direction, one that took the pressure off of him. “Well, you certainly want me to _like_ you.”

 

He could feel Thor blushing even as he faced dutifully away. “Do you not?”

 

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to,” Loki teased. Even in his newfound commitment to transparency with Thor, he couldn’t bring himself to be so sappy as to admit that in words. If Loki petting Thor’s hair as he laid in his arms wasn’t enough to prove it, Loki wasn’t sure what it would take.

 

“I was joking,” Thor replied half-heartedly. “Anyway. I take it that this means you’re going to start making an effort into actually acting brotherly towards me. You know, being on my side. Uniting against what we know is out there. And I will too. Starting with telling you what happened. I think it’s important.”

 

The prospect of dutifully carrying out what Thor was suggesting was enough to make Loki smile, though he knew Thor wouldn’t see it. What had gotten into him? Perhaps he was sappier than he thought. “Thor, you even admitted that it’s easy enough to guess. You left me and exactly what I expected would happen happened. And now we are here.”

 

“Well, yes. But there’s another part of it.” He sounded uneasy once more. Loki wished they could walk beside each other so he could see his face.

 

“Go on, then.”

 

“So, you left to go back to town, right? I was invisible, sitting there angry at you, thinking over what the soldiers had said and picturing my parents weeping with worry. It wasn’t fun.”

 

“Like I said, you could’ve come with me.” In a strange way, though it would’ve been simpler, Loki wasn’t _that_ full of regret that things had transpired this way instead.

 

He ignored that reminder as if Loki hadn’t even brought it up. “As the time passed, I started feeling worse and worse. Not physically, just… I still don’t really know how to explain it. My anger grew and I wanted to rip myself to shreds. I dug into myself, and... immersed myself in that rage. And, after a while, when the sky started turning blue again… I got out of my own head, and I looked down, and I could see myself once more.”

 

Loki’s heart dropped. “What?”

 

“Your spell broke. I can’t explain why… Well, no, that’s a lie. Loki, I don’t know much about magic, but I know myself. You had chained me. And I couldn’t stand that. So, once you were gone... I freed myself.”

 

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Loki regretted saying that immediately. It made absolute sense.

 

“Don’t lie to me. You aren’t surprised. You’ve been feeling it, too. I won’t listen to you deny that.”

 

“Feeling what?” The excitement in Loki was building; this was the revelation he had been working towards, only said in Thor’s words.

 

“Being apart from you made it very clear: I am no longer the same without you. I go back to what I used to be. Weak and angry at being weak.” Loki watched him shake his head infinitesimally, undeniably disturbed by what he had discovered. “Breaking your spell broke me. Until you found me, I was mad. I couldn’t think. I felt like an animal. My only motivation was rage, at you, at my parents, at everything. I could hardly bring myself to speak.”

 

Loki felt heat burning its way through his intestines, though he couldn’t tell if it hurt or not. He didn’t know how to reply. He had been correct, but if what Thor was saying was true, there was so much more to it. It was inevitable that this connection had been affecting Loki just as much as it had apparently affected Thor. How, he wasn’t sure yet. But to hear, especially, that  _ he _ had been the one to fix Thor’s madness… that was potent, indeed.

 

Thor continued, clearly glad to be getting this off his chest. “But I managed to, after a bit. I approached the soldiers and told them who I was. Which was probably a very, very stupid decision, and I wish they wouldn’t have believed me. But it’s hard to go unrecognized by Asgardians when you look exactly like the king and queen of their homeland.”

 

Loki smiled to himself. “That was all the convincing they needed, I suspect.”

 

“They were over the moon to see that I was alive. We set off towards Asgard as quickly as we could. And now, because of me, they’re dead,” he finished curtly. And then, he said no more, though Loki knew his story was not finished.

 

He took this as a sign that Thor needed him once more. Glad to have an excuse to do so, he sped up to walk beside his brother and looked at him, though Thor didn’t look back. He had sounded full of regret, but there was not a tear on his face, nor an ounce of sorrow in his eyes as they scanned the dark ground absentmindedly.

 

“I think they were going to go that way, anyway,” Loki said, trying to comfort his brother the only way he knew how, with logic. “You heard them. They were convinced that they wouldn’t last much longer, no matter where they went - all they wanted was a few moments of hope. You gave them that.”

 

Thor looked over at him, but his eyes still looked blank. “I suppose you’re right.”

 

They fell into step, then, and continued quietly until the mud had turned hard and dry under their feet once more. Loki was very anxious to leave Vanaheim. Nidavellir would be a challenge in its own right, but at least there they wouldn’t have to continue this annoying charade of avoiding notice. It was becoming poisonous.

 

With that thought, he decided it would be better to keep the silences to a minimum. “So… what did happen in the snow?”

 

“We were attacked by frost-giants. If that wasn’t obvious enough. I lost my sword, too. Piece of shit. You know "frost-giant" isn't just a euphemism? They're quite literally made of it. So my sword shattered when it hit the ice. Makes me feel pretty confident about our chances the next time we see one.” Though his words were clipped, still, he didn’t seem overly annoyed by Loki’s questioning. This was a good sign.

 

“You’re alive, though. And I didn’t see any Jotun bodies scattered around.”

 

Thor chuckled. “You know, I was actually going to wait to bring this up, because it creates a lot of questions. And I don’t know that you can answer them, but they’re driving me crazy.”

 

“I’ll do my best.” Loki didn’t like where this was going.

 

Thor sighed heavily before broaching this apparently delicate subject. “They definitely recognized me. And I am positive they spared me on purpose.”

 

Loki bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. Thor was getting to be very, very good at delivering him conundrums. He tried very hard to keep his voice steady. “Guess the soldiers were wrong, then. If Laufey doesn’t want you dead.”

 

“How could he not want that? It would be crushing to Father. They were _not_ wrong about that part. And I know there’s an easy explanation, or two - they knew I would die out in the cold, anyway, or maybe Laufey wants to personally ransom or kill me - but none of this feels right to me.”

 

Grudgingly, Loki agreed; his brain was churning and thousands of scenarios seemed possible. “It doesn’t feel right to me, either,” he confided, adding without really thinking, “I can’t help but wonder if he knows about me, too.”

 

Thor looked at him, slightly bewildered. “Why would he care about you? Or… even know who you are?”

 

Once more, Loki gritted his teeth. He had let that slip, hadn’t he? “I-I have kings’ blood too,” he hurriedly explained, internally glad that he was speaking and not writing his thoughts, since he _was_ telling the truth, only through punctuation. “I’m not sure how he would know about me. It’s not impossible that the Jotuns have spies, or that one of my foster families let my parentage slip.”

 

Thor seemed very unconvinced. “You told them who you were? That seems like a bad idea.”

 

“Odin did. I think Freyja made him.”

 

“Doubt it.”

 

“Fine, then, forget that idea. It was just a thought. The important part here is that Laufey wants you alive. Do you think that means he knows we’re coming?” Loki asked, pleased to have found a way out of that topic of conversation. He was beginning to find it harder to lie to Thor.

 

“He might, now. We had no chance against the giants and didn't even manage to hurt them; they’re almost certainly headed back to tell Laufey exactly who was in his territory.”

 

“We’ll be to Nidavellir before that, I think,” Loki assured him, though he wasn’t sure how true that statement was. “We will be much safer there. And even safer than that in Muspelheim. And after that…”

 

“We’ll figure that out when we get there.” Thor looked much more assured now. “Loki - listen, I really do mean it when I say I appreciate what you’ve done for me. I still feel like we’re doing the right thing. Without you, that would not be the case.”

 

“I’ll accept your gratitude, this time. If only because I like hearing it. Tell me again about how I saved you and I was right all along and I’m the strongest magician you’ve ever met.”

 

Thor clapped him on the back, and Loki wished he would leave his hand there, but he didn’t. “I’ll tell you that when you’ve earned it.”

 

“Is that a challenge, brother?”

 

“I’ll make you a deal. I will say all of that, with absolute earnestness, to our parents once we’re home, _if_ you get us home. Because I think it’s pretty clear now that I’m not going to be able to do that on my own.” Beneath Thor’s teasing words, Loki could feel a true undercurrent of warmth. He was doing it, finally. The trust he wanted Thor to have in him so badly was being constructed before his eyes. It would be finished before he could decide what to do with it.

 

“I can’t guarantee we’ll make it home, but I can guarantee that you’ll believe all of that. And don’t say _our parents._ ”

 

“I will say that all I want. Mother will come around.”

 

“She will most certainly not. I don’t think she will ever forgive me for what Odin did.” She would if he was the knife that beheaded the war, he reminded himself.

 

“I’ll convince her. Just like I convinced you to start being less of an ass. You know, everyone always thought I wasn’t much for words, but you’ve seen it. I can be convincing when I need to be.”

 

Loki internally disagreed, he thought Thor’s ability to be convincing was rooted far more in his trustworthy face and comforting touch and emotional clarity, but it was also amusing to see Thor work himself into corners like this. “I won’t argue with that.”

 

“No, you only argue when you’re unhappy. Or when you’re hungry.”

 

Loki shoved him, harder than he needed to, and instead of resisting, Thor playfully let himself stumble. He landed on the grass and laid back on it, looking almost just as he had their very first night after leaving the cabin in Asgard. “Speaking of which, I am hungry. I think it’s time for a break.”

 

Loki had no qualms with that decision, and they ate a peaceful meal of Loki’s stolen food together, never quite touching this time but without taking their eyes off each other for more than a few seconds at a time. Loki could live like this - this was genuine. They were happy, once more, and there would be a lot of pain ahead, but at least this time, it would be a pain they could unite against.

 

His own feelings, however, were a much less coherent affair. And the part of him that demanded definition of that sort of thing tended to pop up at the most inconvenient of times, like this one.

 

Though Loki had been avoiding dwelling on it too much, it was difficult to deny for much longer what was going on within him. He knew that it was strange - aberrant, even, perhaps - to crave Thor’s touch in the way that he did. They were no longer children, and even when Loki was, he didn’t like the feeling of someone else’s skin on his own. But with Thor, he wished to feel it all the time. It made him feel like he was much more than he was. Stronger, more open, more free.

 

But that wasn’t normal, either. They were brothers, and it was _undeniably_ weird to want to be together in the way that Loki often wished it. It would be much easier to silence those wishes, too, if Thor didn’t seem to always want to humor him. Loki could be forgiven for not knowing better. Thor couldn’t.

 

If Loki really wanted to stop what he was doing, he could. But why should he? Thor didn’t mind it when he walked a little too close and their hands brushed. He didn’t mind it when Loki’s leg shifted over his own while they slept. And he certainly did not mind letting his own gaze wander when Loki changed clothes, or relieved himself, or did… really anything.

 

(Loki did the same thing, so he assumed it was acceptable.)

 

He didn’t know what any of this really meant, if he was to be brutally honest with himself once more. A lack of understanding regarding acceptable social interactions was both a blessing and a curse of growing up as he had, with so little contact with others. Perhaps one day they could talk about it, but the idea of doing that now made him flush red with embarrassment as they ate lunch. He hoped that Thor was too busy swallowing sausages and watching Loki’s fingers deftly pick grapes off a small cluster he’d brought for himself from the tavern.

 

Before long, though, the moment had passed, and their break had ended, and Loki could let himself forget his confused feelings for the rhythm of walking again. Time passed strangely after that moment, and the mess of emotions and ideas that had preceded it. He could lose himself in the thud of footsteps over rocky ground and assert his gaze on the path so he didn’t trip over errant stones. Before he knew it, they would be to Nidavellir. And then he would be assaulted with so many new shapes and materials and riddles that him and Thor could return to their safe, brotherly rapport without Loki having to worry about what was going on inside of him about it.

 

He questioned whether that was really what he wanted to happen. Whether he wanted safety, or something else, like the courage to surrender safety.


	17. Interlude V

_ Interlude V _

 

 

_ Loki, _

 

_ My son. It is time you hear those words from me. For too long did I extend my grudge to you. That era is over. Soon, all will be right once more. _

 

_ I offer my greatest apologies for not writing to you sooner. I knew there was little chance that my words would reach you in Asgard. Odin’s reach is broad, indeed, though as I am sure you have heard, his sight has been limited. I look forward to receiving your gratitude for my decision to blind Heimdall. _

 

_ A military strategy that has, quite clearly, paid off already. The betrayer Odin has visited me in my palace. He told me what he had told you, about our shared history; I have no reason to doubt his truth-telling. It came many, many years too late. I have not and shall never forgive him for hiding the fact of your lineage, and I suspect you will not either.  _

 

_ He also purported that his great reveal had precipitated your departure from Asgard. He knows you wished to come home, once you had become aware that home was something you had. _

 

_ Additionally, I have received most exciting news. A certain Asgardian prince was found in my lands. I can only hope that you rescued him, and that you experienced what it means to be of Jotunheim in your short time spent within our borders. I have plans for the boy, plans I believe you will find most satisfactory. My plans for you, too, are vast and fulfilling. _

 

_ In short, I look forward to your return. I have been waiting so many years, and have endured enormous pain in your absence. So much of our people’s fate lives in your blood. It is time for you to let that fate blossom, my heir. _

  
  
  


Laufey had struggled with how to sign the note. It seemed crass to wish him love, but overly formal to finish it with his name and title. He sat at the desk, staring at the unfamiliar, itchy yellowed parchment for a few minutes. None of it looked right. The page stuck out, ugly and flat, against the infinite shades of blue in Laufey’s living chambers. Finally, he added a simple, entwining  _ L _ , and folded it up. It was to be sent via raven immediately.

 

For perhaps the first time in his enduring life, Laufey felt pause. He had given much thought to what he would say to Loki, given the chance. He had even written letters out before, in that tacky Asgardian method, and each time, he had disposed of them. Seeing his barest thoughts laid out like that was immodest, and it embarrassed him. This time, however, his writing was not merely an act of sentiment. He had a very tempting chance to steer Loki in the right direction. He could not let that slip through his fingers.

 

And, perhaps, it might hurry Loki in his journey here. It had been so very long.


	18. Chapter 18

Nidavellir rose, crimson and craggy, like the hackles of some wild beast above the sagebrush hills where the Odinsons had made their last lonesome camp. Winter was more truthful there than it had been in Vanaheim. Where the wind had blown the snow off its peaks and sheer faces, the rock bled red. Loki knew that the color was simply due to the minerals being of a different composition than those he was familiar with, but still it brought him a mysterious thrill.

 

Before they could reach the mountains, though, there was a great black wall, its impenetrable vertical surface smooth as glass, to cross. The tingle of excitement Loki felt when he looked upon the realm before them was not entirely selfish. No Asgardian, nor anyone but the dwarves had been within its borders in many thousands of years. When he was a boy, when Odin still visited him and told him stories, he had claimed that not even he had seen its interior. Loki laughed a little when he thought about how he used to believe all that his father said.

 

Back then, the dwarves’ secrecy had been a source of much speculation and wonder within him. Odin had given him books from many eras ago that claimed to hold precious knowledge on their society, and Odin himself had always said that the dwarves were almost inconceivably different from the rest of the world’s inhabitants. This, Loki thought, had not been a lie, but a reflection of the his father’s own values - the dwarves were a peaceful folk. Not once was there record of them participating in warfare, or even taking sides in diplomatic issues of note. 

 

Neither did they share any magic with outsiders, or trade with them, or do anything interesting at all. They never left, and nobody ever visited them. Their technology, their art, their culture never left, and it was doubtful that they had wanted to assimilate that of Asgard’s. And so, over time, the boy Loki’s interest in them had waned. He now understood that this was precisely what the dwarves probably wanted. And now that he was here, once again, his curiosity was piqued.

 

The challenge that this bore - to be allowed entrance into the realm at all - had occupied his non-Thor-related thoughts during the remainder of their journey through Vanaheim. They would not be able to use magic or sneak over the border as they had before (the wall’s height rivaled even that of the one around Asgard’s castle, Thor had commented). If his plan didn’t work, they would be left to freeze their way through Jotunheim and probably be captured, or go south and find a fishing vessel bold enough to drop them off on a dwarven beach (if there were any, and the mountains did not slope all the way into the ocean). Which would leave them in Nidavellir without permission, and, as far as Loki knew, could be more perilous than the Jotunheim route. As he’d expected from the start, this was their only real option.

 

Fortunately, Loki did have a plan.

 

“Are you sure about all of this?” Thor asked as they sat and breakfasted. They were quite close to the wall, but Loki had read that dwarves didn’t have the best eyesight, so they were not bothering to conceal themselves.

 

“Thor, what do we know about dwarves?” He had been making a point to say  _ we _ rather than  _ I _ a lot lately. “They don’t care about you, or me, or anyone else outside of themselves.”

 

“That sounds a bit like someone I know.”

 

“Very original. You have nothing to be worried about, brother. They are not going to send us back to Odin, and I highly doubt they will kill us. This I promise you.” Loki had explained his plan in all its simplistic glory, and Thor had not been impressed. Somehow, he had thought it strange to be telling the dwarven guards exactly who they were and what their mission was.

 

Loki admitted that it was unusual for him to be the honest one and Thor the one afraid of telling the truth. But, for once, he saw no other options. There was simply no reasoning to give the dwarves for their journey towards Muspelheim that made any sense at all, beyond the one they genuinely had. He didn’t think “going to slay dragons” would be an acceptable excuse, though it might give them a good laugh. Loki distinctly remembered that the dwarves, supposedly, were quite good-natured. And saw through lies better than most.

 

This was a risk Loki was not willing to take, so his beloved pastimes of exaggeration and concealment would not get them far. Instead, he had the truth, and he had an unshakable faith in his reasoning behind it. He was not asking for the dwarves’ help, nor any offer of allyship in the war, but neither could he expect them to be openly hostile. As long as his very old books with their very dated information and his liar of a father’s recommendation held true.

 

“That’s not the only thing that could go wrong, you know. They could be in league with Laufey. We could be delivering ourselves to him.” Unlike the trend he’d established over the last several days, Thor wasn’t looking at him as they spoke, but at the towering mountains ahead. They were miles taller than those he was used to. His uneasiness was palpable.

 

“Where’s your sense of adventure, brother? That is  _ not _ going to happen. If it did,” Loki assured him, “well, that would just mean that this journey will be over much sooner than we anticipated.”

 

_ What if I don’t want it to be over so quickly?  _ the phantom inside of Loki answered. He wasn’t sure which one of them its voice belonged to.

 

“Alright… this just feels odd, after all we have done so far.”

 

“Better, I say. We won’t have to hide anything.” Loki’s mind started wandering towards what  _ anything _ included. “Maybe it’ll even be fun. Supposedly, they brew the best beer in all the realms.”

 

“Mm.”

 

Loki chuckled a bit. “Thor, pessimism doesn’t suit you.”

 

Thor finally looked back at him, a shrewd half-smile twisting his face. “I’m not so sure optimism suits you.”

 

“Me neither, but it beats giving up and going home.”

 

Thor halfheartedly agreed, and with that, Loki began internally reviewing what he would say when they reached that foreboding black wall that separated the dwarves from the rest of the world. Thor did have a point about his newfound optimism, he thought, and he wondered whether his confidence might have its roots in foolishness - whether it was wrong to trust what he thought he knew. But there was little he could do otherwise. He did not want to give Thor the impression of doubt.

 

Once he felt he was ready, he tore his gaze from the task ahead and steered it back to his brother. Though the last few days had been kind to them in several ways - they had not encountered any Vanir, nor bloodthirsty monsters, and their interactions with one another had been naught but pleasant - one would not know it simply by looking. Free from wandering eyes and any care whatsoever about them looking the part of two young princes, their clothes had torn, their hair had tangled, the dirt had tunneled under their fingernails and sullied their skin. The thunderstorms up against the foothills had been frequent, and so their shoes were ragged and their legs were covered in half-dried mud. Loki had not minded any of it in the least, but wondered whether it was the best image to be projecting. 

 

Since he hadn’t used magic in several days, he felt strong with it, and knew that he could transform them to look like anything. But he didn’t want to have to keep up the illusion for what could easily be weeks unending, and he didn’t like looking at Thor when he was disguised or dressed as he imagined Freyja would want him to. When he asked Thor what they should do, he had replied with a shrug. It was a stark reminder that, even when he tried to include Thor in his decisions, Thor wanted him in control.

 

Which, obviously, he didn’t mind, but it would be nice to have a little input from time to time.

 

He decided on a middle ground of washing themselves and changing into fresh clothes, without trying to appear overly regal by magical or mundane means. There was a creek by where they’d camped and Loki knew that the water draining from the mountains would be icy, but delightfully clean. There might’ve been an ulterior motive hidden somewhere in his feelings, as well, but he would keep that locked away.

 

He told Thor what he was thinking (well, parts of it), and they strode over to the shore cheerfully. The sun was out once more and the mountains blocked the sight of any incoming clouds. Even the thin, pale trees bordering the shore were not dense enough to provide any true shade, and they were still at a suitably low elevation for there to be no trace of snow. The air was mild and dry. It almost reminded Loki a little of home.

 

Thor seemed to be glad to have something more present to do than wait for Loki to think up a good plan, and he pulled his shirt and pants off with abandon, tossing them to the ground so that he was left in only a rough pair of undergarments. He ran down to the creek as if he was greeting an old friend. Loki stripped his own clothing off more cautiously, feeling very pale and skinny. Thor was already doing something one could only describe as  _ frolicking _ in the water, splashing it up onto his face and wetting his hair, washing the dried blood from his scars, and finally laying back on the surface so that the full expanse of his skin glistened in the sunshine. Loki stepped in, feeling very satiated.

 

The creek was only a foot or two from its surface to the rocky bottom, not deep enough for them to swim in, but was pristine and clear and cold, and he could not even mind that he looked rather unimpressive next to Thor’s bared chest, for the water felt so good on his skin. He, too, laid back to float and let the gentle current play with his hair. He felt it swirling in arcane patterns, stripping away the mud and dust that had inundated it. The sun imprinted minute constellations on his closed eyelids.

 

“Are you sure we can’t just stay here?” Thor’s voice was thick and sounded funny filtered through the water in Loki’s ears. But there was no obscuring the happiness in it.

 

Loki smiled and flipped onto his front, shaking his face in the water before walking his hands along the riverbed like some strange amphibian, over to where Thor now sat cross-legged. The water just reached up to his narrow waist. The scar on his abdomen from his most grievous injury, way back in Asgard, the one Loki feared would kill him, had faded almost into nothingness. 

 

“I could stay here,” Loki murmured, sitting peacefully in front of his brother. Above his head, he could see the reaching front of stormclouds ambling in to interrupt them. The darkening sky did nothing to subdue Thor’s beauty.

 

“This feels like home,” the prince said.

 

“I know. I think it’s better than home, actually.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“I don’t think anyone would ever find us here,” Loki answered plainly.

 

“And what would we do with all that time?” Thor looked to be deeply lost in thought; his eyes cast shadows into the flowing water between them.

 

“We would think of something.” Loki continued speaking before his mind could wander too far towards the cloudy, unknown place it had been at the crossroads of a lot lately. “Tell stories of our father. Debate politics and philosophy. You could teach me more about being a prince, I could teach you more about magic.”

 

“We’ve already discussed that so much.” Thor was apparently trying very hard to lead his brother down that dark road.

 

Loki resisted, knowing it was wrong. “Well, then, we could decide what we will do after all of this is over.”

 

“This can’t be over if we stay here forever.” He still seemed somehow dazed.

 

Loki smiled and splashed him. “You’re funny when you’re being logical.”

 

Thor rubbed his face with the water and came back to himself. The storm was coming in very quickly now. Loki found that he didn’t really mind the risk of lightning.

 

The air was yet very still where they sat. Thor played with the tiny rocks they sat on, taking handfuls and spreading his thumbs over them. When he spoke again, his voice was lower and older. “It’s true. Loki, tell me. What would you do, now, if it suddenly were all over? If Laufey died, from whatever cause, and the war ended, and the realms were once more at peace?”

 

“What would you do?” Loki deflected. He couldn’t answer such a question without ensuring first that his words wouldn’t suggest more than he meant.

 

“I asked you first.”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Would you go home?”

 

Loki bit his tongue. He knew what his answer was. He was not certain whether it was sensible to reveal it.

 

Seeing his silence, Thor laughed gently. “I’m sorry,” he admitted, “you don’t have to answer. I know home isn’t as simple for you as it is for me. Even so… thinking of that word, thinking of the home I left… it’s not like it once was. My memories don’t stir the emotions they should.”

 

“How so?”

 

“It feels empty.”

 

Loki smiled despite his brother’s sadness. “I know what you mean.”

 

The  _ plip-plop  _ of raindrops on water filled the silence. Shadow had taken over sunshine, but Loki felt warmer than he had in ages. He rested his hands on the surface, feeling where the cold water from above met the even colder water he was immersed in. Thor shivered ever so slightly.

 

“I suppose it’s time to go,” he mumbled, echoing what he said each time a moment like this had to end.

 

“Why?”

 

“It’s cold. It’s  _ not  _ all over. We aren’t finished yet.”

 

Loki hummed but his brother’s words had slipped through his ears like an eel. He was dreaming, he knew it. Momentum pulled strong in his bones. He gave into it and crawled beside Thor, wrapping his arms around his broad back and nestling his head into his neck. He needed to share the heat he was feeling.

 

Thor shivered more deeply, but responded in kind, taking Loki’s hands in his own. They were strong in grip, but his breath shook with trepidation. His lips were turning blue, but their endpoints flicked upwards. “I’m glad I ran away, Loki.”

 

“I’m glad you ran away, too.”

 

The first crack of thunder echoed over the foothills, and they stayed like that until the clouds parted once more. Loki knew it was a dream, because it had to end. And because Thor could not have possibly humored him as he had. 

 

But when Thor did get up to leave, and pulled him up by the hand, and did not let go, it all seemed so terribly fragile that it had to have been real. Like a wound, Loki’s heart gaped open, and he didn’t wish to close it. He wanted to let it bleed, let the viscera run out in the creek, down the foothills to the plains, watch it spread and poison the land. He wanted to taint the very ground with whatever was this darkness he was feeling. Yet he knew that he was no longer in the business of fraying that which was already splintered. He was a healer now, and he knew that healing must begin with himself. 

 

So he sewed it all back up, fetched them new clothes, and pretended to be whole once more.


	19. Chapter 19

Cleaned up, stiff-backed, and awkward, Loki and Thor stood before the silvery-black section of wall that seemed like it might be a gate. They had walked upstream from where they had bathed, and sure enough, it had led to a divet in the endless expanse of dark metallic stone. Birdsong and the rustle of branches were the only sounds they could hear - no chatter of guards nor nocking of arrows broke the near-silence. Feeling very foolish, Loki knocked. The wall was pleasantly warm from the sun shining down on it.

 

A foot below their heads, a tiny window slid open. Between inch-thick solid metal bars, a helmeted figure appeared. It was impossible to distinguish the dwarf’s expression through the armor and dark silken veil covering its face.

 

“Greetings,” Thor said with authority. “I am Thor, son of Odin. My brother, Loki Odinson, and I wish entrance to your realm.”

 

The window slid shut.

 

“Wait, wait,” Thor sputtered. “I can prove it. We are only traveling through. Our destination is Jotunheim, where we hope to peacefully end the war. No harm shall come to Nidavellir or her people. We bring no army nor weapon.”

 

Silence. Loki bristled. Perhaps it had not been the right idea to have Thor announce them after all. And the last part of his declaration hadn’t even been a lie!

 

Thinking quickly, Loki stepped forward and hunched over a little so he could look the guard in the eye if he decided to open the window once more. He constructed an expression of courteous canniness across his features. “Our father does not know of our presence here. In fact, I am his bastard, illegally born, living in defiance of Asgard’s will. We are traveling outside of Odin’s reach.”

 

The window did not open, but a voice responded to them as clearly as if they were standing plainly before its owner. “The king of Asgard did not send you?” The voice was deeper and more jovial than Loki had been expecting.

 

“We are openly rebelling against Asgard, actually.”

 

“Why?”

 

“We have been betrayed.”

 

Thor gave his brother a look, like _are you sure we should be telling him so much?_ Loki ignored him. He had pledged honesty, and so the truth the dwarves would get. Vague honesty was still honesty.

 

Loki cleared his throat and continued. “We travel to Jotunheim to complete what our father could not. Passage through the great realm of Nidavellir would greatly benefit our journey. We think you will find us to be respectful and quiet guests for the brief duration of our stay.”

 

“We have not allowed visitors to Nidavellir in millenia.”

 

“We would be delighted to be the first.”

 

“And what would you give us in return?”

 

Thor interjected with a hurried, “we have gold,” but Loki elbowed him. There was no way the dwarves would want their money, nor would they have anything to do with it even if they gave them all they had.

 

The dwarf didn’t respond to that; hopefully he had not taken too much offense. Loki tried to keep his voice steady. “I am a skilled user of magic. I offer to share what I know and assist with any problems you may have. Thor offers you information on Asgard and its people. We are open to any amount of negotiation.”

 

Thor gave him another look, this time like _no I do not_ , but again Loki said nothing in explanation. They would need to offer all that they had, and if they had to lie later to protect themselves, so be it. He had only promised honesty in arrival, not in their entire journey through the realm.

 

The dwarf laughed, a loud and boisterous thing that vibrated deep in Loki’s bones. “You are a funny one, son of Asgard.”

 

“Erm… thanks…” Loki replied awkwardly. On an existential level, he objected to being called _son of Asgard_ , but couldn’t correct the dwarf in front of Thor.

 

“Listen," the guard said. "I know this is cliche, but if you can tell me a riddle I have not heard before, I will allow you entrance. It’s been too long since I’ve had a good laugh, and honestly, your ability to entertain us will be much more important than any…” he coughed conspicuously, “magic you can offer us.”

 

Surprised that they were even being given a chance, now, Loki smiled. “I accept your offer,” he said with far more confidence than he actually felt. Though he enjoyed a good riddle better than most did, he was _not_ so excellent at being put on the spot.

 

He thought quickly of the books of riddles he’d pored over with voracity as a child, but worried that the dwarf would know all of them - many had had dwarven authors, after all. And the guard had not said it needed to be a _good_ riddle, only an original one. So he knew that he should probably make one up, as anxious as the thought made him. He stepped back, biting his tongue and looked around for inspiration.

 

Thor was the first idea that came to mind, of course. Loki could describe his brother for hours unending, in the most elaborate and inventive of ways, making him an ideal subject for riddling. But the dwarves didn’t know him, and this specific guard had only seen Thor’s jacketed chest and maybe his chin through the small window, so wordplay involving his storied past, his inscrutable loveliness, his eyes, which could be as clear as a mountain stream or as tumultuous as a crackling storm, would be lost on him. Loki would need to come up with something the dwarf could relate to. He looked up, staring into the abyssal snow-spotted crimson mountains.

 

Sure, it was obvious, but he was in a bind here. And he did not want this to take all day. “I bleed, but do not die. I grow old and white one day, and am bared anew the next. Time does not know me.” Loki folded his arms, satisfied enough with himself.

 

The dwarf burst out laughing. Thor gave his brother a worried look. Loki’s jaw clenched; his voice didn’t seem to be working well enough to defend his riddle or claim that it was only a joke, the _real_ one was yet to come. Thor opened his mouth to speak, but the laughter did not cease, so he gave up. The Odinsons looked at each other. They were entirely unsure of what to make of this.

 

“O-Odinson… you…” the dwarf managed to get out between meaty guffaws. “You are… f-funny-”

 

Loki laughed uncomfortably, but thanked him again, acting as though this is what he’d been going for all along.

 

“That was… you just…” his laughter still hadn’t stopped, but after a few moments, Loki heard a series of clicks, and a mighty door slid open upwards from where it had hid flush with the wall. The inside of Nidavellir looked just like the outside did, at least from this vantage point. It was difficult to focus on the environment, though, when the doorway was mostly occupied by the dwarf doubled over, hands on his knees, gasping for air.

 

“So… may we come in?” Thor asked.

 

The dwarf waved them in with a mail-covered hand. Loki thought it odd that an exclusively peaceful realm would outfit their guards so heavily, but tried not to dwell on it. If they were walking into a lion’s den… well, they had survived attacks before, and Loki had not forgotten what it felt like to protect his brother.

 

Alas, they had no choice now. Feeling awkward but accomplished, Loki stepped inside Nidavellir, wondering what they were getting themselves into.

 

Finally, the dwarf guard righted himself. “Welcome to Nidavellir, I suppose. To be honest, I’m new to this. Second week on the job, though I’m not sure how much a few years either way would matter, considering. I’ve never met Asgardians before.”

 

Loki tried to contain his bewilderment at the utter casualness of the guard, but he didn’t think he was doing a very good job. “You’re not going to get in trouble, or anything?”

 

“Nah. So long as Motsognir doesn’t find out. And she won’t. She doesn’t really pay too much attention to what goes on here.”

 

Loki nodded curtly, but didn’t press the dwarf for any more information. If they were planning on killing, hurting, or imprisoning the Odinsons, it sure didn’t seem like it. “Pleased to hear it. So…”

 

“Oh, I suppose I should tell you where to go. Yeah, not really sure where exactly to direct you to. I’m a guard, not a tour guide.”

 

“That’s fine,” Loki said, though he was becoming rather annoyed. “We just need to travel through. And if there’s a place to restock on supplies-”

 

“Ah, yes, of course. You know… actually, I’ll just lead you there. Ginnunga, it’s not very far. And I have nothing else to do here. I’ve been getting a little stir-crazy, actually.”

 

“Really?” Thor said, masking his sarcasm just barely, “couldn’t tell.”

 

Loki gave him a stern look. “That would be welcome. We’ve come a long way. And we would be honored to see more of your realm. I grew up reading so much about it.”

 

“I’m sure you did. How much did you believe?” The dwarf began punching jewel-toned buttons on the wall, and the door closed slowly and heavily. No going back.

 

“Ah, not all of it,” Loki lied. He did not like being made to feel gullible.

 

The dwarf seemed to have already forgotten what he’d asked, though. “I’m Hannar, by the way.” He pulled off his helmet. He had a short, well-manicured white-blonde beard, eyes as black as Asgard’s sky, and reddish skin, almost the same color as the mountains. He extended his left hand in greeting.

 

Thor grasped it with his own. “Pleased to meet you.” It was odd seeing Thor this subdued. Perhaps after all of their adventures, this was what had finally stunned him, this strange, erratic, easily-amused dwarf.

 

Not that Nidavellir was unworthy of such awe. Loki greeted Hannar, too, and as they began walking the sleek-stone-paved road, took in the strangeness all around them.

 

The road itself seemed to be made of a similar substance to that of the wall. On either side, jagged cliffs rose high and steep; every few yards a miniscule waterfall or five trickled down their sides. It reminded Loki that, at least here, spring was coming fast and irascible. Strangely, not a living creature, besides themselves, could be seen.

 

Hannar began chatting with Thor, asking him about the tide of the war and whether Asgard had crumbled yet. It soon became clear that he was insatiably interested with what was occurring outside of Nidavellir, despite the prevailing knowledge that the dwarves were, by choice, insular and crabby. Loki wondered how aggressively they would be accosted by inquisitive onlookers once they reached any sort of settlement.

 

Now that they were here, though, Thor had found his voice once more, and for that, Loki was glad. He hoped that Thor was proud of him for getting them into Nidavellir so easily and safely.

 

As they walked, though, it wasn’t long before Loki became bored with the endless waves of red rock around them. A worrying phenomenon - through his many, many years of being in such close contact with the outdoors, he hadn’t once became bored with their mysticism, and now in this fresh realm, he lost interest after naught but half an hour. Was Nidavellir simply empty? Were the dwarves silently dying from lack of food? It certainly didn’t seem like it from looking at the sprightly Hannar.

 

Overcome with curiosity, Loki let himself dwindle from the conversation at hand (Thor actually seemed to be enjoying himself, now) and slowed his breathing, entering that meditative state he preferred in order to focus on the flow of seidr through him. If Nidavellir truly was dead, this would prove it.

 

Something itched at him. He hadn’t looked at Thor like this in ages, and certainly not since his feelings had become so muddled that even thinking about him felt dangerous. He made a point to avoid the salient body walking next to him with all of his might. With that in mind, and blocking out everything but the rhythm of his steps and the sparkle of magic in his veins, Loki spread his perception outward to find…

 

Yes, nothing. Nothing but opaque rock.

 

“Hannar,” he said once he was back within himself once more, “how far away are we from where we are going?”

 

“Oh, not far now. In fact, we’re nearly there. Five minutes, maybe.”

 

That couldn’t be right. With that short of a distance between them and what Loki assumed would be at least several dozen dwarves, he would absolutely be able to detect them. Had his magic stopped working? Perhaps seidr didn’t work here… or dwarves were impervious to it… or they had magicians far more powerful than Loki and were hiding and were going to kill them… either way, he wished he hadn’t even tried. Trying had reminded him of the Thor problem. A lot of things reminded him of the Thor problem. The damned plain red sandstone everywhere and the cliffs that seemed to close in on them did not help.

 

Loki was beginning to think that he didn’t like Nidavellir too much.

 

He joined the conversation once more to distract himself. They were now speaking about the last time Asgardians had entered Nidavellir - a prince, Thor’s great-grandfather, in fact, had wished to marry a dwarven princess. The courtship had not gone well. It made for an amusing story, and Loki was relieved to have something to laugh about.

 

As Hannar had said, though, a change in scenery came quickly. The road began sloping downwards, and Loki could no longer see a gap in the cliffs that they might travel through. Finally, they crested a last hill, and saw what they were apparently traveling towards.

 

Thor gasped just loud enough for Loki to hear it. At the end of the road was a great door, its edges the same material as the wall around Nidavellir, but inset with a mosaic of cut stones so large and translucent that Loki was sure they would look like stained glass from the inside. The patterns the stones made did not look like anything Loki had seen before - geometric, yet fluid, dizzying when the clouds parted and the sunshine hit them, and every color imaginable. It was undoubtedly beautiful.

 

Hannar gave them a look that clearly implied that he wasn’t as impressed as they were. Loki set an internal reminder to warn Thor not to speak too highly of the comparatively shoddy handiwork scarring Asgard.

 

“You haven’t even been inside yet,” the dwarf said with amused exasperation. “And this is just Ginnunga. Wait until you see an actual city.”

 

Thor cleared his throat. “We’re just passing through. We might not have time-”

 

“Oh, don’t be rude, Thor. Hannar has been so hospitable, and we would be remiss to deprive ourselves of the good will of the dwarves. We can stay a while.” Loki knew that he was laying it on thick, but he was wary of getting on the dwarves’ bad side. If avoiding that meant kissing each and every one of their pale asses, he would be on his knees at once.

 

Hannar took Loki’s compliments in stride. “I think you might not have much of a choice - you’re bound to be a novelty here. So long as you don’t go starting trouble. Once you’ve pissed one of us off…” he trailed off; Loki thought he was trying to be menacing but he was simply too… jolly for it to really sink in.

 

Relieving them of the necessity of figuring out a valid response to that, they reached the door, and it was even more magnificent up close. Loki wanted to touch it, but folded his hands behind his back instead. Hannar approached a small panel to their left, which looked very much like the one at the wall, and hit a few buttons. A strange noise came from it.

 

“Dain? It’s me. I’ve got something you won’t _believe_ ,” he said with the air of someone who wanted to show off a new prized possession. Loki stiffened a bit at being called a _something_ , but when the door slid open on itself, colored stones rotating inwards like the mechanisms of a massive clock, he forgot that he was supposed to be taking offense.

 

Hannar was right - Ginnunga was so much more than its entrance. The mountain around it had been hollowed. Below their place at the top of a massive staircase was a womblike expanse of empty air and red-rock structures, creating a dizzying maze of buildings stacked up on each other, stairs that disappeared into nowhere, and metallic dust glittering and floating in the absence of wind. The structures all appeared to be formed from the same chiseled red stone, simple in their architecture yet elaborate in the detail on their surfaces; whatever artist-masons had been down here, they had been skilled, because each wall and ceiling had exquisite patterns traced into it. Above them, the craggy ceiling had been inlaid with those same colored stones, casting warm light down into the chamber which reflected off the mirrorlike black surfaces accenting all of the red. It was not a huge area - only a hundred yards in diameter at the most, Loki estimated - but its magnificence was so unique, so unlike anything Loki had heretofore seen that he could not help but be impressed.

 

“Once you two are finished gaping, we can go to the tavern,” Hannar said with nonchalance.

 

Loki looked to his side. Thor was, admittedly, gaping. Loki nudged him, and they descended the pattern-embossed stairs that led from the door to the town proper.

 

Something tugged at him, though - Loki looked back up the stairs, taking care not to trip. There was nobody on the other side of the door to have heard Hannar’s words.

 

Continuing that trend, oddly enough, was the lack of dwarves they saw moving around the settlement as they entered it. Loki could swear that he felt eyes watching them from inside the small houses, but nobody came out to greet them or ask _what the Hel are two Asgardians doing here?_ Loki wouldn’t mind it too much if it were like this the entire trip through Nidavellir, though. He could understand conflating shyness with prickliness. That, or Hannar had been lying, and they were about to be killed.

 

“Hannar... where is everyone?” Thor asked, breaking the eerie silence that hung heavy in the air.

 

“Not many live this far on the outskirts of Nidavellir. Ginnunga was built long ago, when we had guests more often. Not much to do here anymore.”

 

Thor nodded thoughtfully. “We can stay, though? You’re sure?”

 

“Thor, Thor, don’t be so worried. Trust me. My friends at the bar, at least, they’ll love you. And look, we’re already here.” He turned a tight corner into a shadowy room. At once, it erupted into joyful chaos.

 

Loki’s eyes adjusted quickly, and once they did, he saw a dozen or so dwarves all rushing up to meet them, massive jugs of beer in hand, with expressions of equal surprise and delight lighting up their faces.

 

It was impossible not to be overwhelmed, but Loki tried to look as excited and totally-not-apprehensive as they did. Hannar gave them a warm introduction, leaving nothing out as to their identities and reasons for being in Nidavellir. Loki gathered that dwarves weren’t much for discretion or secrecy, though he couldn’t complain much when more food and drink than he could possibly consume was shoved into his arms.

 

Not that he minded it, but it was odd to Loki that the transparent happiness all around was having an effect on him, too, bolstering him and doubling his sense of relief at being safe once more. Usually, he would find himself cantankerous at all the commotion. But as he ate more of the unfamiliar yet delicious food, and drank a lot more of the beer (it _was_ the best he’d ever had), he found himself enjoying all of the attention.

 

The dwarves here were mostly travelers, though a few seemed to simply like the quieter atmosphere of Ginnunga. They fawned over the Odinsons equally and answered all of Loki’s and Thor’s questions about their own realm with aplomb. It was certainly a new experience for Loki to get to confirm what he’d read by way of the subjects themselves while drunk on their beer. Hannar was clearly proud of himself for bringing about, as one of the others had said, “the most interesting thing that’s happened to Nidavellir in centuries”. The look Thor gave his brother when that was said only added to Loki’s good mood.

 

It wasn’t long, however, before his eyelids began to droop and his stomach protested against being stretched any further. And as quickly as the party had started, it was over. They were led down more stairs (with the help of a handrail, of course) to the seclusion of a quiet, cool vestibule with many darkened bedrooms branching off from it.

 

It was no surprise to Loki when him and Thor chose the same one.


	20. Chapter 20

At first, Loki was aware of little more than the feeling of skin on skin and the softness of the world around him. He felt much like a baby bear waking up from its mother’s hibernation. The world outside was new and fresh and fascinating, but it was oh, so warm and comfortable where he was. 

 

It was still dim in the cool, cavernous bedroom. He did not have a headache, thankfully. When he opened his eyes, he saw hazy colors filtering in through the gemstones dotting the walls and ceiling. The light they cast was not bright enough to wake him or Thor, but it was enough to confirm that outside the mountain, it was probably daytime.

 

He turned onto his other side, and Thor’s hand on him wrapped more intimately around his waist. Their shirts were off, probably discarded in some hurry to the floor. 

 

Loki’s mind started wandering. What, if anything, had happened last night? He could remember clearly entering Ginnunga and meeting the dwarves and feasting with them, but as the night had skipped along, holes began opening up in his memory. Oh, well. The beer hadn’t given him a hangover, but evidently its magical properties only stretched so far. As long as its memory-depriving powers extended to all who drank it, Loki was fine.

 

Obviously, Thor and him had ended up together in this outrageously plush bed by choice. There were no other visitors at the inn, and many other rooms. What would the dwarves think? What kind of message were they sending about how Asgardians managed themselves? Surely it would not look good that these princes were so codependent that they couldn’t bear a single night away from one another after months of the same. 

 

But Loki made an  _ “oh, well”  _  face to himself. He knew he did not truly care what the dwarves thought of them. For all they knew, the Odinsons had done far more than just sleep in the same bed- 

 

Thor shifted positions in his sleep, rolling onto his back, and his fingers trailing sleepily over Loki’s ribcage made him shudder. Suddenly, he was full of ugly panic. Thor had said, not so long ago, that he felt a connection deeper than blood, and this was how Loki repaid him? By twisting that connection into something dangerous and sick? Perhaps Loki had even affected him so much, by some enigmatic spell, that all of this doing - this sharing of beds, this constant sweetness that had engulfed their relationship lately - was his fault alone. Maybe he was taking advantage of Thor without even realizing it. Reproach spread through him at his own thoughts -  _ seriously, what’s wrong with you?  _ \- alongside fear that the spell had broken. That Thor had somehow sensed that shameful impurity that had begun to play dangerously through his mind. 

 

Impurity that was so foggy and indistinct that Loki couldn’t make out what it was supposed to be. He certainly couldn’t tell if it elicited the disgust in him that they should. And that, atop all else, was enough to set his worries alight.

 

He knew he should distance himself from all of these thoughts, or better yet, get out of the bed and leave and fill his mind with something else. Perhaps he could find Hannar, or at least walk around Ginnunga and busy his legs until his anxieties had absorbed. They still needed to move forwards, and the wisest thing Loki could do to ensure that was to find a map and plot a route. Not linger on his selfish feelings and let his brother touch him like this. 

 

But Loki was not wise. He was weak, so weak, to what he knew he truly wanted, and without a doubt he was weakest whenever Thor was involved. His curiosity right now was not focused on Nidavellir. And he would be lying to himself if he said he wanted it to be.

 

Torn and desperate to find himself busied, he thought back to a real problem at hand, one that had nothing to do with how Thor’s muscles would feel under his fingertips or what anyone would think if they came in and saw them holding each other so. This was a  _ need _ \- something that had been eating away at him since before they had entered the red mountain. Sure, he’d had sufficient distraction from it since then, but he knew it would be unwise not to check, especially if they did encounter any danger soon. Luckily, it was a task he could complete from the comfort of the bed.

 

He started with something simple. Without bothering to speak the spellwords aloud, he conjured a tiny dagger to his hand. It worked just fine; it was a relief, indeed, to be sure that it wasn’t his entire ability to do magic that had decided not to work since entering the dwarf realm. He hurriedly vanished it before Thor could wake and wonder if Loki was going to try and kill him.

 

Admittedly, though, minor spells were not the part he was worried about. It was his magical perception that had ceased to work outside of Ginnunga. He would need to test that specifically. And if he just used it towards Thor, he could be sure that it was an issue with the realm, and not with him… and perhaps he could learn other things from doing that, as well…

 

Wary from the memory of the last time he’d had physical contact with Thor while doing this, when he’d felt the pain Thor was constantly immersed in, he gently took Thor’s hand off of him and inched away, reentering the now-familiar state of meditative focus. 

 

This time, he would not avoid the obvious. He did not hold back, but let all of his energy spread. It only took a moment for his worry that there was anything wrong with his ability to be assuaged. Once he opened himself up, everything was Thor.

 

Quite literally, too. After he felt the soothing, sleeping presence of his brother, he tried to extend beyond their room and felt nothingness. No dwarves, nor insects, nor microbes, and certainly none of the living ice he’d felt in Jotunheim. Just Thor.

 

In a way, this was comforting, because at least now it was easy to determine what the problem was. His magic was fine; in fact, he felt stronger than he had since the last time he’d used so much of it at once. The rock here must simply be impervious to it. It blocked him out, or absorbed it. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care, because there was something so much more interesting than that nothingness beside him.

 

It called softly, and he longed to answer. 

 

Pleased that he was not afflicted with any magical disease, he let himself linger in the state. He wasn’t probing within Thor, only letting their senses flow between one another. It felt safe, since it had only one point of connection and thus one point of vulnerability. Moreover, he did not feel his energy being sapped. He felt at peace.

 

It was strange, actually… the longer he lingered in his psychic openness, the stronger and more energetic he felt, though Thor was still sleeping. Soon, it became difficult for him to remain lying there motionless; he wanted to run, to dance, to let his limbs celebrate what power they had. But if he returned to himself, he thought he might not feel it anymore. So, instead of letting go, he deepened it.

 

Like a curious cat, he extended further into Thor, focusing his energy towards breaching Thor’s skin and the surface of his consciousness, throwing himself into the essence of another like he hadn’t in so long. The walls Thor harbored all disappeared when they recognized him. Loki’s feeling of being alive doubled. 

 

It was not so much like the last time. The landscape here was more rugged, less sanitized than it had been. Its surface was infected with small shadows; it was made of a substance that looked soft and welcoming but erupted in attack upon the slightest provocation. Before, Thor had felt so… kind, so soft and sensitive, too innocent to feel true fear. Even when Loki had felt his pain, he had interpreted it as a pain Thor was glad to feel because he thought it would strengthen him. This was no longer that. This was a Thor who had felt enough pain to realize that it would never do anything more than coexist with him. Yet still, he battled on against it.

 

Rather than scaring Loki, though, it hypnotized him. His presence was not being attacked. The way he had sunk inside without issue, though he could feel Thor’s responses to the imagined stimuli of his dreams fighting tooth and nail. Why?

 

Loki wished to find out. He knew it was unwise.

 

As he was starting to gather himself enough to leave and end his foolish imposition into Thor’s deepest recesses, though, his physical body responded once more. Loki heard a whimper. He felt hands clutching him tight. And he felt a million more times alive than he had in his life.

 

* * *

 

The afterglow was like… well, something that embarrassed Loki even more the more he thought about it. 

 

He had certainly not been wrong about Thor having changed. This time, when they touched, the sensation Loki was subjected to was anything but pain.

 

He lay on his back, slightly sweaty and blushed from the concentrated feeling of it. And when he opened his eyes, Thor was awake.

 

“You alright?” he asked.

 

When Loki’s tongue unknotted himself, he answered. “Fine. Good.”

 

“You look a little testy.”

 

“I-I’m good. Really good.” Once more, Loki was unable to find lies. He only hoped that his words would not betray him too much. It was fine for Thor to know that he felt good. It was not fine for Thor to know why.

 

“Did you sleep well?”

 

Loki sat up; the slight buzzing deep in his stomach made him a bit teettery. He let his hands grab onto the blankets to stop them from shaking. And drew them up over his lap just in case the worst had happened, which… from the feeling of it, it might have.

 

“Really well. I suppose that’s what happens when you needn’t fear the worst when you fall asleep for once.” He was surprised at how coherent he sounded.

 

Thor nodded. He looked pure and youthful. Not like the wild beast Loki had felt within him. He supposed that he hadn’t ignited enough fury within him yet this morning to cause that change to manifest. “Me too. I’m glad we’re here.”

 

Loki couldn’t help himself. “Here in Nidavellir, or here, like…” he looked down at the bed, “here?”

 

Thor’s smirk made it difficult for Loki to actually regret bringing his feelings so far out into the open. “Both. Just because we’re here and safe doesn’t make me want to leave you any more than I have to.”

 

_ Why _ did the damned boy have to be so sweet about it? Why couldn’t he leave Loki alone with his feelings so they could rot together in peace?

 

“We might not be safe for that much longer.”  _ Much better, Loki.  _ Deflect. He knew that if he was allowed the slimmest of chances to speak his true feelings out into the world, it would ruin all. Better to get Thor off that road as quickly as possible.

 

“In that case, I’ll keep you even closer, and closer yet when the danger is back.” He was still refusing to look away from Loki. There was no trace of irony in his voice and his eyes held only clarity. Was this some sort of test? Was he toying around, trying to make Loki crack? Or was Loki’s accidental possible spell over him still in effect?

 

Whatever it was, it was working well. Loki faked a smile. “Mm.” It was the only sound he could think of that wouldn’t betray him.

 

Thor fidgeted. “As much as I’d like to stay, though, I think we ought to continue on. Or at least get out of bed. Wouldn’t want the dwarves to wonder.”

 

“About what?”

 

“That we’re lazy, or lying about where we’re actually going. Or that we’re plotting something.” He shot Loki a quizzical look, but there was a trace of knowing in his eyes. “What else?”

 

“I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”

 

“You’re being awfully weird today.”

 

“I’m just a little dazed. I’m not used to sleeping so well.” Loki knew it was a pathetic excuse.

 

“Me neither,” Thor agreed, getting out of bed. This all seemed so easy for him. Loki wondered if he even knew what his own insides were like right now. To Loki, ignorance could never be bliss, but perhaps for Thor it was.

 

Now that Thor was not in cuddling distance, though, a sense of normalcy settled on Loki’s constitution, so he followed his brother off the bed; they quietly pulled back on the shirts that had been discarded to the floor in a drunken haze the previous night. The dust the fabric had somehow already accumulated made him sneeze.

 

They ascended the stairs contentedly, and found the bar to be empty. There was no way of knowing what time it was, if the dwarves even bothered to keep time when their day cycles were so useless. So, rather than waiting around, they left the room.

 

Outside, it was just as quiet. There were a couple dwarves going about daily business, but they all looked as groggy as Loki felt, and as they had all met the Odinsons last night, they made little attempt to say anything else. Loki would be glad to leave already, but his map didn’t include much useful information about Nidavellir - only the mountains, without much detail as to where any civilization was. So they would have to find someone willing to direct them. 

 

It was not as awkward as Loki feared to wander quietly alongside his brother. There was plenty to look at. The engravings covering the stone walls and floors were beautiful, if cryptic, and they had to pay close attention to not getting lost down a dark staircase or narrow hallway. Thor seemed just as engrossed in the new surroundings, and as such didn’t bother Loki with any more of his potentially-knowing-too-much remarks. 

 

After an hour, though, it became apparent that there was nobody to find. They decided that their best bet was to ascend as high as they could and simply call for help.

 

They found the stairs they originally entered at and jogged up them; Loki was trying very hard not to become frustrated. 

 

“Hey!”

 

It was definitely Hannar’s voice. Loki turned around, and there he was, peeking out of an open window off to their left. They went back down to meet him, sharing expressions of mild distaste mixed with relief.

 

Hannar emerged from a doorway off the main street. “You sleep well?”

 

“Excellent,” Thor replied. “Thank you, again, for the food last night, and the bed. We couldn’t be more grateful.”

 

Loki smiled. Thor was getting much better at flattery. 

 

“Ready to leave, I take it?” Hannar asked with the slightest hint of darkness in his voice.

 

“We’ve a long way to go,” Loki said. “And our maps from Asgard are insufficient. If you could just tell us how to find a clear path to Muspelheim-”

 

“Oh, so you don’t want a guide?” Hannar interjected.

 

“It’s not that,” Loki said, trying to sound as apologetic as possible. “We don’t want to be burdensome. We’ve made it all this way, we can find our way through Nidavellir, as soon as we have an idea of where to go.”

 

Hannar laughed. Loki had already gotten tired of the sound the last night, and this morning it was positively grating. “I’m just messing with you. I can’t just quit my job!”

 

“Shouldn’t you be there right now?” asked Thor.

 

“Nah, Dain’s on shift. I have to go back out in a few hours. Until then, I can help you. We probably have a map somewhere around here.”

 

Grateful that Hannar wouldn’t be accompanying them any farther, they followed him to what seemed to be a sort of library. In the shelves, the books looked much like any other, but when Hannar started pulling them out and opening them, their pages betrayed the bizarreness of Nidavellir - they were made not of paper, but of extremely thin sheets of the dark metal that seemed to be everywhere here. 

 

Several did contain maps. Maps even more detailed than Loki needed, but he wasn’t about to complain about that. Hannar gestured to the largest one. The book itself was at least two feet square and bound in a shiny purple leather.

 

He opened it to a page that seemed to show the entire realm, and then pointed to where they were. “Here’s Ginnunga. Now, you could go this way,” he traced his finger left between mountains, “but since time is of the essence, I think you ought to go to Rigsthula first.”   
  


“Why is that?” Thor asked.

 

“Rigsthula’s on the continental divide. All of the rivers flow downwards, that is to say, westwards, from there, towards Muspelheim. It’ll be much faster to take a raft than to walk.”

 

Loki nodded, surprised that Hannar had given them such good advice. “And how long is it to get to Rigsthula?”

 

“Couple days at the most, if you take all the shortcuts.”

 

“And those shortcuts are…?”

 

“Underground.” He pointed at the dotted lines on the map that branched out straight from Ginnunga. “You’ll have to take a couple, this one won’t go all the way there, but it’s faster than going around. And the tunnels are clearly marked. Neither of you are afraid of the dark, are you?”

 

Thor laughed, but there was a strange undercurrent to it. “We’ll be fine.”

 

The darkness was the least of Loki’s concerns. “When we reach Rigsthula… will we be safe? I know you’ve been hospitable, but you won’t be there to introduce us. I just want to ensure that we won’t cause issues.”

 

“Nah, you’ll be fine. Rigsthula’s a much, much larger city, but I don’t think you need to be concerned. If it wasn’t obvious, we’re not exactly the vicious race of Asgardian-eating savages you thought we were.”

 

Loki scowled slightly. “I never thought you were.” He might’ve thought it once, actually, when he was very young.

 

“And I wasn’t accusing you of it. But as you seem to need constant validation, I’m giving it to you.”

 

It was all Loki could do not to roll his eyes. But Hannar let them take the map-book, and they were extremely well-stocked on food and water now (the dwarves had heaped it upon them, and what they couldn’t eat, they had stowed away). As such, it wasn’t too long before they were long gone.

 

* * *

 

The first tunnel leading off from Ginnunga was only a few miles long. They were back at the surface by twilight.

 

“I think we might as well stop here. It’s a bit longer to get to the next tunnel, and I want to see the stars before we’re underground again for who knows how long.” Loki hadn’t intended his  _ stars _ comment to be romantic, but it certainly came out of his mouth a bit odd.

 

“Works for me. You’re sure there’s not anything out here that wants to kill us?” Thor was clearly displaying a rudimentary grasp of sarcasm (there was no food chain on Nidavellir’s surface, and thus nothing to eat them). Loki was proud of him for it.

 

“Just me,” Loki replied with a smirk. He set up camp quickly. He was feeling rather playful, and certainly not tired. It was nice to be truly alone with Thor once more.

 

The sky was clear, so they didn’t bother to find an overhang or any sort of shelter. The lack of trees and terrestrial civilization meant an unobstructed view and utter silence; it was immeasurably peaceful to lay out in the open. Delightfully, the stars were as bright as Loki had ever seen them. The brothers’ contented silence convinced him, briefly, that everything was alright.

 

Instead of trying to come up with things to say to Thor that wouldn’t betray him, he studied the sky. The constellations down here were different than those Loki knew. He tried to find the landmark stars, but it was difficult. Finally, he closed his eyes and smiled. It was foolish for him to get upset over a change in scenery when a change from Asgard was all he’d ever hoped for.

 

Thor did not seem quite as interested, though he didn’t distract Loki and seemed to be enjoying the silence as well. It wasn’t long before he was asleep. Loki was still not tired, though. When he closed his eyes, he saw things he didn’t want Thor to see. Thor was surely deep in his tumultuous consciousness by now; Loki did not want to affect his dreams, even if that were possible.

 

Without warning, a dark shadow passed over him, blocking out the sky so well that he could recognize it through his closed eyelids.

 

He bolted upright. Thor slumbered quietly at his side. On a crag high above them, a raven perched. In Loki’s lap was a folded piece of parchment.


	21. Chapter 21

_ An incoming wave of blue… skin blackening and peeling off muscle… a parched throat gasping for air… _

 

Loki’s dreams were full of violence that night, despite the friendly nature of his father’s letter. He had read it quickly in the dim crescent-moonlight, grateful that the raven hadn’t brought it until Thor was fast asleep. Then he wondered why it would have done such a thing. Then he questioned how it had even found him in the first place. Even through his panic, though, an easy answer arose. Loki had always had a way with those birds. A raven from Jotunheim was probably no different than a raven from Asgard.

 

The content of the letter provided no such clarity. Even so, the prose seemed so familiar. The quiet planning, the measured release of information, the buildup of mystery. Loki had always known that he had little in common with Odin. Now it was apparent which parent he took after.

 

_ My heir. _

 

So Laufey hadn’t wished to abandon him after all. He was wanted. Then again, why would Laufey have started the war if he wasn’t? And why wouldn’t Odin have just given him up, if that was truly all it took to install peace? Why had he waited so long to contact Loki? 

 

And what did he have in store for the Odinsons when they finally arrived?

 

Thinking about it all threatened to keep Loki up for countless restless hours wondering. But the worst part about this was not the questions Loki had. It was the rest of it. The things he was certain of.

 

He had chosen action when he left the cabin, and action was what Laufey wanted. Of course one day it would come to this, and Loki was an idiot if he ever thought he could end it differently. He could not deny the fact that the whole purpose of him leaving Asgard in the first place was to fulfill just what this letter spelled out. To return  _ home _ , and to decide to accept that place as his home. To pick a side. Or at least try out the side that Odin had disallowed him from seeing.

 

And this was the part that hurt: the knowledge that this could have worked out exactly the way Laufey wanted it to, and that Loki himself maybe would’ve wanted it too. It wasn’t hard to remember a time not so long ago, after Odin had told him he was Laufey’s son, that this letter would have excited him beyond measure. This would have been exactly the confirmation he needed that Odin was an evil, cruel man, and that Laufey deserved his loyalty and his power. And to extend that sentiment to the realms themselves. That Asgard was a barren and useless place. That it ached to be reduced to frozen rubble.

 

But Laufey had been too late on that front. Thor had changed everything, as he always did. And so it hadn’t taken that long for Loki to change his mind, had it?

 

He had too big a problem standing in his way, now, to feel much vengeance on Jotunheim’s part. One that he had grown to love. It gave him no easy way forward. So he did what he always did, and chose to ignore it for the time being.

 

There was a far easier and more tempting thing to do. He sunk into his delirious meditative state beside Thor as he had done the previous night and felt his radiating consciousness until his worried heart calmed. And then he stopped, and tangled their hands together, and fell asleep.

 

The raven was nowhere to be seen when Loki awoke. Thor was none the wiser, and Loki was too adept at pretending to set off his alarm bells. And now that some vestige of daylight was finding them between the cliffs and crags, they were moving once more. Even at this high elevation, it was very warm. But the path was wide enough for two, and they fell into step automatically.

 

It was unfair how splendid of a mood Thor was in. “So, what do you think Rigsthula will be like?”

 

Loki had to indulge him, if only to distract himself. Luckily, Thor was the best distraction he could ask for. “Well, if it’s the city I’ve read about before (and I think it is), we’re in for quite a spectacle. Providing they don’t kick us out.”

 

“You’ve read of it? Why didn’t you tell Hannar?”

 

“And have him berate me even more? No thank you.”

 

“I think it’s funny how bad you are at recognizing when I’m being sarcastic.” He sounded inordinately self-satisfied. 

 

Loki blushed a little. Normally being reminded of his social shortcomings turned his stomach into an angry mess, but it was no longer like that with Thor. Perhaps because it brought him so much joy to see Loki struggle. “Maybe I’m being sarcastic back to you and you’re the one not realizing it.”

 

Thor chuckled. “You’re adorable when you lie.”

 

Loki would’ve preferred fearsome or cunning, or at least convincing, but today he could settle for adorable. “I thought you didn’t like it when I lied.”

 

“It’s grown on me.”

 

The fireflies that lived in Loki’s heart lit up cheerfully. So much that their emotion seemed to spill out through his mouth, infecting his voice with a sweetness hostile to the sharp retort he’d planned. “I thought you’d never say that. I suppose I’ll have to do it more often, then.”

 

“You know,” Thor said with a smile, “for all you seem to think you know about everything, you’re wrong about me a lot.”

 

Loki elbowed him and got a shove in return; he tripped a little over the rock-strewn path but couldn’t find it within himself to be embarrassed. “I never say that I know everything.”

 

“You don’t have to say it out loud. I can tell that you think it,” Thor teased.

 

“Oh, so now you’re the expert on me?”

 

“I like to think that I am.”

 

Loki liked to think that too, except for the part that meant his secrets (the true ones, the ones he couldn’t tell Thor) were more vulnerable than he wanted them to be. “Really.”

 

“Really. I know that you like to keep things from people. And make up false secrets to cover your real ones.” His tone was still light enough for Loki to think that he might be kidding.

 

“I don’t have any secrets.” He paused, then realized that sounded suspicious. “Well, I do, I have a lot. But none that you aren’t privy to.”

 

“I doubt that.”

 

Loki shrugged. “Doubt it all you want. I have no reason to keep the truth from you.”

 

“I can think of some reasons.” To Loki’s horror, he sounded like he was growing more serious.

 

“Like what?”

 

Thor sighed gently. “Well, as we haven’t talked at all about what we’re actually going to  _ do _ when we reach Jotunheim, I have to assume that you’re hiding it from me.”

 

This subject would’ve caused Loki great distress but a few weeks ago. Now it was a relief. “Mm. I suppose you’re right.” After he said it, he remembered that only last night, he  _ was _ distressed over it. Meditation had quite an effect on him nowadays.

 

He could feel Thor smirking beside him. Apparently, being correct was more important than having a solid plan for him anymore. Did  _ that  _ remind Loki of himself a little.

 

“I wasn’t keeping it from you on purpose, really,” Loki assured him. He was glad that this was one subject on which he could be almost completely honest. “I just… I truly don’t know. I thought I would have a better plan by now.”

 

The  _ “I thought you would, too”  _ was loud enough that Thor didn’t even have to say it. 

 

Loki kicked up the dirt a little in a defeated sort of way. It glittered slightly. “What do you think, Thor? I suppose it is time that we talk about it. The obvious answer is we assassinate Laufey and end the war.” He mustered up a sad little laugh. “Based on what we know now about frost-giants, I don’t think that’s a realistic plan anymore.”

 

“I don’t either.”

 

“So what do you think we do, then?”

 

“We wait.”

 

“Wait?”

 

“We wait here until we come up with something. Maybe we can convince the dwarves to help us.” Thor sounded much more confident about the first part than the second. And nothing near upset about what he was offering.

 

Loki, too, was strangely satisfied with this answer. Now that he had Laufey’s letter and a real hesitation towards  _ actually  _ murdering his father, waiting in the safety of Nidavellir sounded like the ideal plan. “I’m glad you said that.”

 

“I’ve been thinking of it for a while, to be honest.” Thor sounded like he was very glad that his brother was being so agreeable.

 

Loki, too, was glad that Thor wasn’t being too rash. The fact that he wanted to spend more time with Loki in this peaceful, private realm excited him as well. “Well, I think you’re right. It’s been a hundred years. What’s a few more weeks?”

 

“Or months.”

 

“Or years.”

 

“Maybe not years.”

 

“Maybe not. But as long as it takes to get it right.”

 

Thor flung his arm around Loki and squeezed him. “Until then, it’s just you and me.”

 

* * *

 

The sun had finally crested the tops of the peaks and was beating down upon them when they first sighted the opening that marked the second tunnel. They increased their pace to hasten the change of scenery, and it wasn’t long until they were out of the sun once more. It was much cooler inside, but the relief was welcome.

 

Still, there was not a soul to be found. Loki had thought that they would see more dwarves on their way, especially as they got closer to Rigsthula. But the path had been barren, and the tunnel was no different. It did explain why Ginnunga had been so deserted. He was certain there was some mystery to solve with these strange dwarves, but it seemed so unimportant and uninteresting that even his curious mind didn’t wander very far towards answers.

 

Now that they were inside, they decided to take a short break to cool off and confirm that they were headed in the right direction. Thor had already taken it upon himself to explore the new surroundings.

 

“Loki, what do you think this is?” he called from across the cavern.

 

Loki stopped checking the map one last time in the light at the tunnel’s opening and followed him deeper inside. It was difficult to see at first, but his eyes quickly adjusted. Growing on the rock was a patchy array of some sort of moss, but not the boring kind Loki was used to. This was fuzzy and green and  _ glowing _ . Thor touched it with curious fingers. The bioluminescence stuck to them; he examined the residue with wonder. Loki could see him grinning, but it looked rather sinister in the acid light.

 

“We definitely don’t have that on Asgard,” Loki said plainly. “Come on. We should go.” He started walking and conjured a flame-colored light to travel with them.

 

Thor jogged along to keep up with him, still enamored by the glow coming off his skin. “I hope it’s not toxic.”

 

They shared a chuckle. “If it is, I’m sure I’ll figure out how to cure it. I don’t think Odin would appreciate his son dying in such a foolhardy way.”

 

“Oh, and you think he’d be alright with me dying a different way?” His hand fell distractedly to his side.

 

Loki considered this seriously for a moment. “It would give him a good reason to try for another son. Maybe he’d actually get one worthy of the title on the second go.”

 

The temperature in the tunnel seemed to drop instantly. “You said you’d stop with that,” Thor said quietly.

 

“Come on, you know I was kidding.”

 

“You didn’t sound like it.”

 

“I was. I swear it. And frankly, I’m unconvinced that you’re as powerless as Odin thinks you are.” Loki would never regret lowering himself to flattery when it was towards his brother.

 

“You’re seeing something I’m not, then. And don’t bother trying to flatter me.” 

 

“I’m not flattering you. And I’ll keep bringing it up until you believe me.” Loki wished he could speak of what he saw in Thor, in the literal sense. He was close to mentioning it, and knew he would have to soon. It just seemed like such an invasion of privacy that he wasn’t sure whether Thor would love or hate him for doing it. Repeatedly.

 

“I’ll believe it when you show me proof. Until then, I think we ought to focus on not getting eaten by cave-wolves.”

 

He still sounded rather dour. Loki had an idea to cheer him up. Of course, it could have the opposite effect. But Loki was in a risky mood today, and he couldn’t bear to leave Thor unhappy on his account.

 

He concentrated hard on a few words of illusion and sensation. “Um… Thor…” he muttered once the spell was ready, trying to sound panicked.

 

“What?” He looked over at Loki, and then jumped a foot in the air. “A-ahh!” he yelped.

 

Loki erupted into giggles, then made the light hovering along with them brighter. At Thor’s feet was a (fake) snow-white puppy. It looked up at them innocently and rubbed its face into Thor’s calf.

 

Thor broke out into a smile. “A cave-wolf, I take it?”

 

“It’s not real. Unfortunately.”

 

He reached down to pet it and it licked his hand where it still glowed green. The effect didn’t rub off, illustrating Loki’s words thoroughly.

 

“Can we keep him, brother?” Thor asked.

 

“Erm. I suppose.” Loki hadn’t been planning on keeping an illusion with them the whole time, but he couldn’t see a good reason not to. Especially if it gave Thor this much joy. “It won’t bark at danger, you know.”   
  


Thor was now rubbing the puppy vigorously. To Loki’s slight chagrin, he looked more delighted than he ever did when he looked at Loki. “Couldn’t you make it?”

 

“I don’t know. It’s worth a try.” And so try Loki did, amending the spell. He knew it wouldn’t make a difference whether he was successful or not. He could sense danger perfectly well himself, as Thor ought to have known.

 

“What should we name him?”

 

Loki laughed. “Thor, he’s not real. Name him whatever you want. I’m sure  _ arse-face  _ or  _ dumb little bastard  _ would do just fine.”

 

Thor stood up and gave his brother a look, and the puppy seemed to make the same judgmental face at Loki. “He’s mine, and I’m going to give him a nice name. Just give me a while to think about it.”

 

Loki rolled his eyes but assented, and they kept moving. As they walked, they started to see much more of the glowing moss. The essence on Thor’s fingers didn’t fade, and every time he touched something besides his dog, a little of it rubbed off. But they were moving and safe and Thor didn’t bring up Loki’s mockery of him again. That, along with the relief Loki felt at not feeling pressured to hurry, or to come up with a plan, and the cheerful presence of their fluffy new companion, meant that spirits were high as they traversed below Nidavellir’s crimson mountains.

 

This tunnel was much longer than the first, and so they would need to stay overnight (or was it day?) at least once. After so many hours of darkness, they grew tired more quickly than they normally would have, and picked a stopping point. Here, the tunnel opened up a bit into what Loki assumed was partially a natural cave.

 

There was sound here, a quiet rushing noise of flowing water and the scintillating pitter-patter of bloody-hued stalactites growing longer and longer. At one time, Loki would’ve found it annoying. But the deep silence in the rest of the tunnel was eerie, and somehow, this place felt more welcoming. 

 

They set up camp next to a deep green pool and Loki moved the werelight up near the ceiling in a weak imitation of a sun. He had never been one to want for a nightlight before, but he wondered whether it would be wise to leave it in place for the duration of the night. He didn’t think their little cave-wolf would be much good if any real ones showed up.

 

Thor didn’t seem perturbed at the prospect of sleeping underneath millions of tons of rock, but that might’ve been due to him being rather preoccupied. The puppy lapped water from the pool and Thor dragged his hand through it, scrubbing at his green fingers. The luminescence didn’t fade one bit. He soon gave up.

 

He pet the dog affectionately and drew up his announcing voice. “I think I’ve decided on a name. I’m going to call him Vali.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“I just think it’s a nice name.” He let Vali go and arranged the blankets behind him, then laid back and sprawled himself over the pile. They (well, Thor) would need all of them tonight; the cave was colder than anything they’d encountered besides Jotunheim. 

 

Vali didn’t leave him alone for long. Being insubstantial, he had more energy than the Odinsons did. He jumped atop Thor and began licking his face.

 

“Is he going to sleep? Or at least pretend to? I don’t want to be kept up all night.” Thor didn’t look like he would’ve minded that, though.

 

“He’ll do everything that a normal dog would do. Including sleep. Well,” Loki added, “that’s not entirely true. He won’t wake up in the night. Or whine. Unless you want me to make him do all of that, as well.”

 

As if on cue, Vali barked the tiniest of barks. Loki smiled proudly and leaned over to pet him. “I’m actually really happy with my handiwork, you know. And with you here, the spell won’t drain me at all.”

 

“With me here? What’s that got to do with it?” 

 

Loki bit the inside of his cheek and resolved to try and tell Thor the smallest amount of truth. “I think our connection helps with my seidr. That’s all.”

 

“Oh. Okay.”

 

Thor didn’t question him any more, but didn’t seem troubled by the admission. To the contrary, his warm contentment had only grown. Loki let it wash over him, and before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

 

* * *

 

It was impossible to know how long they’d slept, but Loki hoped it had been a long time. The frigid darkness of the cave provided an ideal condition for rest. Like usual, Thor was still asleep. Vali lay almost motionless at their feet.

 

Loki sat up and stretched, glad that he’d dimmed the light still hovering above them to almost nothingness. It was too weak to cast sinister shadows off the rock; it was just enough to see the contours of the cavern and the shape of its temporary inhabitants. He shivered, and the blankets fell off of him, and something green caught his eye.

 

Dotting his chest and his arms, and shoulders, and - making his heart rate jump considerably - even some smeared, dug-in spots below his hipbones, was that glowing acid-green residue from Thor’s fingers. Loki leaned over to where his brother lay curled up and facing away from him. Sure enough, there was green on his face and ribs and even a little bit between his thighs where he must have rubbed his hands for warmth. But not nearly as much as there was on Loki. He smiled. He never thought he would feel this pleased to feel owned.


	22. Chapter 22

Something stirred in Loki’s mind - something he had read long ago. _Dare not erase the importance of dreams,_ it said, _for it is only the moon’s cursed clear light that can shine deep enough to reveal what we have buried in flesh._

 

Well, they were not literally under the moon, Loki thought, but the werelight above them provided a close enough approximation. And this time, he would not erase the evidence of Thor’s nocturnal wanderings as he had in the field so long ago. Yet he did not know what to say. Did he want to cause embarrassment, or pretend it was nothing, or did he want to finally clear the air?

 

He settled for none of the above, and laid back down, closing his eyes to pretend to still be asleep. Then he rolled over into Thor and slumped against him, hopefully hard enough to wake him up.

 

“Loki?” his groggy voice called into the near-darkness. Loki didn’t twitch or answer, but he felt Thor waking softly against him.

 

If Loki could only hear Thor’s thoughts as easily as he touched his consciousness. He knew he could not enter Thor at all right now, as much as he wanted to, because he knew that any physical contact in this state would render him very… well, it would be impossible for him to continue feigning sleep.

 

He heard a quiet gasp and a mild curse as Thor discovered the marks. How foolish Thor had been to tattoo himself in such an apparently permanent way, as well as everything save Vali that he touched, Loki imagined him thinking. And then he was silent and unmoving for far too long.

 

Loki wondered if Thor was gazing at him in satisfaction or horror. He chose that moment to stir.

 

“Morning,” he muttered.

 

Thor echoed his sentiment. And Loki opened his eyes to a blush deep enough to see even in the low light of the cave.

 

“What’s wrong?” Loki asked. It took all of his skills in acting not to smile.

 

“Nothing,” Thor answered far too quickly.

 

He was going to play coy, it seemed. So Loki looked down at himself so that Thor would have to answer for it. He touched each spot curiously and then arched his eyebrows at Thor.

 

“I got cold,” Thor said dismissively.

 

“You could’ve asked for another blanket.”

 

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

 

“I’m shocked you didn’t wake me. Seemed like you were clutching me pretty hard.” Loki wasn’t sure why he was being so rude about this when he wanted nothing more than to take Thor’s hand and trail it everywhere over him, so that he might never look the same again. So that he would look unacceptable to everyone save Thor. But if his choices were to ask Thor for that or be rude and standoffish, it was clear which he would choose every time.

 

“I didn’t think you would mind,” Thor snapped back. In the softest of voices, so quiet that Loki wondered if he was even supposed to hear it, he added, “I thought you liked it.”

 

A chorus of _I did_ ’s sang through Loki’s mind. “Don’t you think the dwarves will wonder?”

 

“I was sleeping, Loki. I wasn’t exactly concerned with what they would think. Just stop, okay?”

 

“Stop what?”

 

Thor looked away from him; Vali was waking. “Stop making this into more than it is. It’s not a big deal.”

 

“What is it, then?” Loki knew he should stop and let it go. Why did he find such delight in prodding Thor this way?

 

“It’s nothing,” Thor said with angry authority.

 

_what if I want it to be something_

 

“Are you sure?” Loki should really, really stop.

 

Again, Thor paused for far too long. He rubbed his forehead with his unstained hand and shivered. “No.”

 

It was the one thing Thor could have said to instill complete silence in Loki.

 

* * *

 

The tunnel ended but a few miles after the cave where they’d camped. It was very early morning and the sky was only a shade or two away from black. Vali had run around joyfully when they reached the outside, but now walked along them in stride. Thor had been very quiet since they’d left, and Loki had a feeling that they were thinking about the same thing.

 

Their silence was content and unbrittle, and there seemed to be no friction between them as they walked; Thor’s expression was as good natured as always and his movements were not unusually stiff. No, their unrest was collectively an internal one. Loki had a feeling that if he were to probe Thor’s consciousness right now, an epic battle would be playing forth.

 

Loki’s own battle was not an evenly matched one. The moral part of him, which had always been small to begin with, had been battered and bruised so deeply by his ruling desires that Loki couldn’t understand why it hadn’t simply given up already.

 

Their morning interaction had confirmed what Loki had been wondering for a long time: whether Thor was just as confused as he was. Or… as confused as Loki had been. Loki was no longer very confused. He was mostly sure that he knew what he wanted. Only he was still too cowardly to say it out loud, or even acknowledge it in thought.

 

Images were not thought, though. Feeling was not thought. Loki would only punish himself for what he thought in words.

 

So when the green spots on him felt like they were lighting up with touch once more, or his mouth watered when he watched Thor speak, or the memory of them at the creek replayed itself with Thor entirely unclothed, he tried not to feel guilt over it.

 

He wondered what another sorcerer would feel if they probed Loki’s consciousness at that moment. What if Thor _could_ do magic? Would Loki like him prodding around at his insides, invisible and conniving?

 

He had to stifle a laugh. Obviously, the answer was yes.

 

The torment of walking under the bright-burning morning stars did not continue for long, though. When they reached the next tunnel, Loki took out the map once more, and marveled at how truly small Nidavellir was compared to Vanaheim. This tunnel would take them directly into Rigsthula.

 

Inside the crimson stone once more, they saw slightly more evidence of activity. The glowing moss covered much of the ceiling; Loki didn’t bother with creating his own light. He had grown used to the darkness and accepted it as a friend, now, and plus this way he had to stay close to Thor so they would keep the same pace. The walls were smoother and the pathway was free of fallen rocks. They still didn’t see anybody, but the tunnel looked more abandoned than natural.

 

Loki was looking forward to having a distraction from Thor once more. Or, more accurately, for Thor to have a distraction from him, because it might make him act normal again. As much as Loki loved his brother’s presence alone, he also loved his voice, and his words, and the way he carried himself when he knew he was being watched, unpretentious and calm in his strength. With the slightest touch of callow self-consciousness.

 

If they were lucky, things would go as they had in Ginnunga. This time, they would have no guide, and nobody to vouch for them, but unless the dwarves here were a world different than the ones they’d met already, there was nothing to worry about. The only question was whether they would enjoy Thor and Loki’s presence enough to let them stay more than a night or two. Hannar had told them to mention him to whoever they saw first, but Loki thought it might be a better idea to charm the Rigsthula dwarves himself.

 

It was probably evening again when they finally reached a door at the end of the tunnel. This one was barely tall enough for them to pass underneath it without crouching. It was flanked on either side by green glowing lanterns in shining black brackets, but the door itself was mostly unadorned, just that dark metal inlaid with little decoration. This was, apparently, not as grand or important of an entrance as the one they’d seen outside. The handle was polished bronze in the shape of a dragon.

 

Without checking with Loki or knocking, Thor pulled it open.

 

Beyond it was a craggy-walled room of sorts, big enough for ten of Loki’s cabins to fit inside. It seemed to be mainly used for storage. Oddly shaped machines and sundry mechanical parts lay all around, old-looking and clearly out of service. On the opposite side of the room was another door, and the Odinsons looked at each other and nodded. They walked carefully around them, afraid of disturbing these dwarven belongings.

 

They had almost reached it when a small _boom_ exploded to their right, followed by a high-pitched hissing noise.

 

“Oh - oh, sorry, I thought I was alone, you gave me quite a-”

 

Loki, who had jumped a little at the sound, tried to calm himself and searched for the source of the sound. On the ground not three meters away from them, a soot-covered dwarf with golden glasses perching on her short nose and whitish hair in a messy bun was trying to stem the leaking of oil from one of the machines. She stood slowly, hands still on the gears.

 

“Wait. Who are you?” Her voice was fearful and suspicious.

 

Like the last time, Thor and Loki introduced themselves. Two Asgardian princes. This time, they left out the details, at least for now. It was yet unclear how much the dwarves knew about the world outside, so it seemed imprudent to say more than they needed to.

 

Except for the part about being brothers, which Loki added rather hastily. _Guiltily,_ he thought it might seem like. As great as it would have been to pretend that they were not brothers, they didn’t want to change their story in case they got caught in the lie someday.

 

The dwarf’s surprised smile grew wider as they spoke. “Asgardians,” she muttered, then looked up at them, abandoning her work to put her hands on her hips. The sputtering flow of grease continued uninterrupted onto the floor and over her shoes. “Never thought I’d see an Asgardian. And now there are two.”

 

They nodded awkwardly.

 

“I’m Egill, I’m an engineer here. Well… aspiring. I’m not very good.” She held up her hands as a sort of example - maybe being covered in some sort of mess was normal here, and the greenery covering Loki and Thor would go unnoticed. “Erm… I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you doing here? _How_ are you here? In Nidavellir, I mean. And, you know, down here.”

 

“Just traveling through. We were allowed passage through the gate outside Ginnunga, near Vanaheim,” Thor explained. And, somewhat lacklusterly, he went on to walk her through the rest of their journey and their reason for being in Nidavellir, but smartly stayed silent on the topic of their future plans. To their relief, Egill seemed much less annoying of a guide than Hannar had been.

 

Except for when she asked them if they tripped and fell into a pit of glow-moss. This made Loki the tiniest bit sour.

 

Egill led them out of the strange room and up more stairs, through more labyrinthine tunnels, and finally out into the open. Or as open a space as it could be, considering they were still mostly underground. If the time it took to get from the tunnel to the main cavern was any indication, they hadn’t exactly come from a common destination.

 

As they entered the city, though, Loki couldn’t deny that Hannar hadn’t been exaggerating about the splendor of Rigsthula - and that Loki himself was right about what he had read. It was at least ten times the size of Ginnunga, cone-shaped and completely open to the sky at the top, so that sunlight actually had some sort of presence, and ensuring that the city was much less claustrophobic. The ceiling opening was lined with scaffolding and windows, like the dwarves lucky enough to live up there were curiously heavy, wingless birds of paradise.

 

Evening was falling fast, and so the rock looked rather purple in the faint glow from the moon. It was still very quiet. This was especially eerie, after a few days of becoming very used to how echoic all this rock was.

 

As Egill led them to another inn, Loki looked to his brother, and found that he wasn’t marveling at the surroundings like he’d expected him to be. His gaze was fixed ahead.

 

Though the city still seemed quite empty, they did pass a few dwarves during their short journey, and Egill eagerly introduced them to each of them. All looked rather forlorn, but perked up an almost outrageous extent when they were told who Thor and Loki were. They were growing used to the attention by now, and Loki had a pretty good idea of why their presence was so exciting to the dwarves. Speaking with them and confirming it would be a great way to get the conversation away from him and Thor and why they were covered in moss.

 

It was not a long walk. The inn here was much more extravagant, as well as more busy. The main room was lined with ancient-looking ale casks, and many were gathered to drink together, though their mood was far from celebratory. Obviously, this changed upon the Asgardians’ arrival. Egill and the dwarves they’d met in the street that had joined their march (all of them had asked questions nonstop, of course) ensured that no expense would be spared in entertaining them.

 

Even more boisterous than the residents of Ginnunga, some of the dwarves in the inn practically broke out into song when they entered. The atmosphere was suddenly electric, perhaps too much for comfort. Thor and Loki knew what to expect this time, though, and so they could play along. Frivolity would not go ignored. Jugs of beer were pressed into their hands and platters of meat and cheese were brought out to cover the tables.

 

“I’m so sorry this is all we have, Prince Thor and Prince Loki,” the barkeep said. “Give us a few hours, and we’ll have eel and cave-boar and anything else you wish for. Again, so, so sorry.” He skittered away in a half-bow, making him even shorter than he already was.

 

The Odinsons exchanged glances. Loki realized that this was really the first time they’d been treated like royalty. (Well, the first time for Loki, at least. Thor probably got nothing but this at home.) It was funny to Loki, in a dark way, that this was again how they were representing Asgard, with peasant clothes and stained skin. The fact that the dwarves didn’t seem to mind too much made Loki like them more than he already did, which was already quite considerable based on the quality of their food and drink alone.

 

Though the hour might suggest it, they did not gorge themselves so quickly as last time, nor let themselves get overly drunk. Before long, they were placed at the informal head of a short stone table, chatting comfortably with the dwarves who had nothing better to do than this. To Loki’s relief, the conversation had moved away from them and into the goings-on of Nidavellir. It was growing old having to repeat his life story over and over again, and he kept forgetting which parts he’d elected to keep secret.

 

One particularly loose-lipped dwarf leaned on the table where they sat, dangerously close to Thor’s half-full cup. “Don’t tell me nobody’s told you what it’s like here,” he said, visibly much drunker than Thor or Loki.

 

Several of the other dwarves gave him expressions of warning, but Thor didn’t notice. “What’s going on?” he asked curiously.

 

The dwarf leaned closer in. “Did you consider why we’re all so happy to see you? We thought… I probably shouldn’t be saying this.” The others gave him looks which confirmed that hypothesis. “But we thought that this meant that Motsognir had changed her mind. Opened the borders. And that your war was over.”

 

Loki chose that moment to take a large gulp of beer.

 

“Is she… erm... your queen?” Thor clarified.

 

“Not queen in your sense. She was elected. Her lifetime term is getting a bit long, if you know what I mean.” The other dwarves still looked tense as if they were afraid of courting opinion in such a public place.

 

Egill piped in, though, chipper as ever. “We aren’t the realm we were when we elected her. That era is probably all you two know about us, right?”

 

She was right. Loki’s education on Nidavellir was cut short after the past couple hundred years. Nothing had left the realm since then, and he deeply suspected that any writings prior to that time suggesting a cultural shift which might beget Motsognir’s rule had been strictly controlled. “You thought you were invincible,” he heard himself say.

 

Egill smiled sadly. “ _I_ thought nothing of the sort. It was decades before I was born. But my parents did, yes, as did many.”

 

Thor looked contemplative. “Have they changed their minds?”

 

“Look around you,” Egill answered. “This might look fine to you, but we’re suffocating. We changed our minds, but it hasn’t changed anything around us. A lifetime term is a lifetime term, and not everybody wants to go back to how it was before, when we were technically still under Asgard’s rule. You have to understand - Hannar did a very brave thing by letting you in. Foolish, but brave.”

 

“Is there anything we can do?” asked Thor as he grabbed another sausage. Loki knew that he meant that from a place of sincerity and not mere politeness.

 

The drunk dwarf gave them a nefarious smirk. “Not unless either of you can make it up to where Motsognir skulks and-”

 

Egill elbowed him. “Be careful,” she hissed. He gave her a meaningful look and then slid off the table and left, probably to complain about her to someone else. “I do apologize for him. I appreciate your kind words, Prince Thor, but there’s really nothing. I’m afraid anything you did would only fracture us further.”

 

Loki pressed his lips together. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Thor taking such an interest in the other realms. Though he supposed he should expect nothing less from a true Asgardian.

 

“We won’t have any issue leaving, will we?” Thor asked. Surely he was wondering where all these Asgard-haters were, as it obviously wasn’t in this inn.

 

Someone had brought out a strange instrument and started playing it, so Egill had to raise her voice to be heard over the din. “Not here, at least. You can get to Muspelheim very easily, actually. I do suggest caution. That place might look like a barren wasteland, but sleeping monsters lie, you know.”

 

One of the other dwarves chimed in, happy that the conversation had shifted away from politics. “She’s right. I hope you’re well armed, for your sake.”

 

Loki sensed an opportunity. Surely the dwarves’ society hadn’t fallen so far that they no longer had smiths… “Actually, we don’t have any weapons at all.”

 

Thor clearly understood what he was going for. “Could you help us out? We would be honored to wield dwarven weapons in our noble war against the Jotuns.”

 

“The honor would be ours, of course. Brokkr and Sindri should be able to help you out. They’re brothers, too.” Loki wondered whether she meant that as a suggestion that they would have a lot in common. It was extremely doubtful that the smiths’ relationship was anything like the Odinsons’.

 

“And they would just give them to us?” Thor sounded doubtful.

 

Egill’s head jerked to the side slightly. “Well… maybe. I’m not sure. I don’t know them that well, but they’re the best smiths in Nidavellir. I guarantee you could take down any enemy in your way with their work.”

 

Loki felt Thor’s leg press up against his own, but he figured it was only excitement at being armed once more. “I suppose we’ll have to go, then,” he said, trying to sound level-headed. The thought of Thor brought to full confidence and potential with such a weapon reignited Loki’s dreams of his hidden power being unleashed. “Tomorrow morning?”

 

Thor made to get up, downing the rest of his beer. “Loki, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can wait that long. You might be the expert on dwarven culture-” _no I am most certainly not,_ thought Loki, “-but I’ve heard a great deal about their weaponry. It was almost legendary to us, the way the generals spoke about it. The thought of being able to see it for myself, let alone wield such a piece, has robbed me of my patience. Thanks, Egill. We’ll be back.”

 

She seemed surprised but not unpleased, and Loki thanked her too before Thor pulled him roughly up by the hand. She told them where they could find these smiths, and they ran out faster than if Odin himself was chasing them.


	23. Chapter 23

Thor was walking so fast that Loki could barely keep up, ignoring wandering eyes and surprised shouts of “Asgardians!” that echoed through the streets as they journeyed in the direction Egill had signified. Rigsthula covered a lot of ground, but it was more spread out than the claustrophobic labyrinth Ginnunga had been, and they could see a foreboding dimness at the city’s far edge where the sunlight from above couldn’t quite penetrate the craggier outcroppings of rock.

 

Judging by his pace, though, Thor found it not foreboding, but tantalizing.

 

“Thor-” Loki tried to get his attention, but he was too determined to turn around. “Thor, wait.”

 

“What?” he replied without stopping.

 

Loki grabbed his arm and pulled him behind a carved stone wall. “What exactly are you planning on asking them for? Were you even listening to Egill?”

 

“Yes,” Thor responded, but Loki could hear evidence of a crack in his confidence. 

 

“Did you not understand her, then? They’re not just going to give you whatever you want.” Loki was having a hard time not fearing the worst - that these smiths were less friendly to outsiders than the other dwarves they had met. It was only logical. If they were the best at their job, surely the elite of Nidavellir would have them in their pockets, and those were some unfriendly pockets to anyone not four feet tall.

 

Thor shrugged, but didn’t ignore Loki’s concerns entirely. “I’ll ask nicely. And promise them anything once I end this war.”

 

Loki shifted uncomfortably at the sudden image of Thor shattering his father into a million pieces. “I don’t think they want anything you can give them.”

 

“Then what do you propose we do, brother? I’m not going any further unarmed. And I don’t think we can steal from here like you’ve been doing.”

 

“I have a plan.” This was partially true.

 

Thor raised an eyebrow at him. “Were you going to tell me of it beforehand?”

 

“Not if you got there before I could.” They shared a somewhat combative look. “There’s two of them, right? We can use that to our advantage. Dwarves are competitive; their nature didn’t change in the past few hundred years, and what the Hel else do they have to strive for locked up here bored and alone and peaceful? We’re going to make them compete for the  _ right  _ to arm you.”

 

“The right? But I’m not even-”

 

“They don’t need to know that. Besides, maybe once you have a suitable weapon, you’ll find something within you that you didn’t feel before.” How much more obvious could Loki be at this point?

 

Thor gave him a searching look. “Well… that sounds acceptable.”

 

Loki smiled at him and they left the dark corner, no longer holding the frenzied pace from before. Thor said nothing but his arms kept twitching oddly, and Loki guessed that he was fantasizing about himself made unstoppable with some dwarven weapon, cleaving through ice giants and inspiring fear.

 

“So… how far are you willing to stretch the truth?” Thor asked with trepidation as they neared the smithing area. It was down a rocky slope following a small but deep underground stream, and they could see the glow of molten metal beckoning.

 

Loki couldn’t contain his laugh. “Thor, I will make up abject lies if it gets you what we need.”

 

“And you think they’ll believe you?”

 

“I can be convincing.” The funny thing about this was that Loki was not telling the entire truth about lying. He wasn’t planning on making anything up that couldn’t be traced to what he had seen inside of Thor. It would all be true, or at least true-ish, only Thor and the smiths wouldn’t know it right away.

 

“And if it doesn’t work? What if they tell Motsognir we’re here or something?” Thor asked, echoing Loki’s concerns.

 

“Hush, Thor. You’re being a pessimist again. Do you really think you’re so pathetic looking that a good smith would refuse to arm you?”

 

Thor left the question unanswered. As they drew closer, their eyes adjusted to the relative darkness of the smithing quarter, and it became apparent that Brokkr and Sindri were not only the best smiths in Rigsthula, but the only ones still practicing their trade. Thor and Loki followed the stream into a gaping, cavelike area and passed dozens of unlit forges. The small houses lining them, though, had lights in the windows and Loki saw shadows passing within. So the smiths of Rigsthula still lived - they had just given up once there was no one left to arm.

 

It seemed that their destination was at the very back of the quarter. The sensory trademarks of smithing grew stronger, but it was not unpleasant; that instinctive affection for the smell of fire pulled Loki forwards. Oddly enough, the smoke was not tainted by the acrid deathly smell of melting metal, and rather seemed as benign as a campfire. They were close enough now to see the brothers at work. Twin forges, twin houses, twin unflinching focus on their work as they hammered away. Only the stream, flowing into a menacing hole in the rock at the end of the area, separated them. 

 

Thor nudged Loki and gestured to the walls and ceiling of the cavern, which had sloped down to only twenty feet above their heads. Hanging from it - dotting every crag, with hooks stuck into the rock as densely as possible - were dark-metaled dwarven weapons of every sort imaginable. Hundreds of them. If they all were to fall right now, Loki doubted that even his magic could stop them from pummeling and piercing them to death.

 

“You think we could just take one of these and… leave?” Thor asked.

 

“Are you scared, Thor?” Loki laughed.

 

“I’m not scared. It’s just that they have plenty of weapons. They won’t miss one.” He had lowered his voice to almost a whisper, though it was impossible that the smiths could hear him over the sounds of their hammers striking away.

 

“Then they won’t mind making one more, especially if it will actually get used. You deserve better than some random sword left out to rust in a cave.”

 

Once more, Thor didn’t respond. He was still gazing up with his mouth slightly open. Loki imagined that his fantasy from before had expanded, and that now he was picturing his Asgardian armies armed with all of these, breezing through giants like they were made of water and not enchanted ice. Loki was certainly no war expert, but he knew what a good weapon was capable of in the right hands. If the dwarves could not make a weapon capable of taking down a Jotun, nobody could.

 

When they got close, Loki stopped his brother and pulled him around so that they were face to face. There was a tempest in Thor’s eyes. 

 

“Just don’t say anything, you hear me?” Loki practically begged. “And try not to gape. You’re supposed to be acting like an all-powerful god. That involves looking unimpressed.”

 

He then led them over to the smith on their left, who didn’t notice their approach. He was rather larger than most of the dwarves they’d met, with hairless dirty forearms and a closely trimmed white beard. Loki suspected that the color had as much to do with his age as with simply being a cave-dweller.

 

“Hello,” Loki said, trying to sound like less of an idiot than he felt. “I am Loki Odinson, and this is my brother Thor Odinson, crown prince of Asgard. We seek a weapon to subdue the Jotun plague and unite the realms in peace once more.”

 

The smith kept hammering away; each blow made Loki’s eardrums ring and spread goosebumps over more and more of his skin. Thor stood at his side, trying to look regal, but succeeded mostly in making Loki feel even more awkward. And young. This dwarf was probably ten times his age.

 

The silence (well, silence of words) stretched and Loki’s jaw set. He was not patient enough for this. Luckily, inciting anger in the dwarf would probably work even better than asking nicely. He raised his voice so he could not be misheard over the din. “If you’re not capable of providing for one so fearsome and powerful as the mighty Thor, I suppose we will have to ask your brother instead.”

 

Thor shot him a quick look, but Loki ignored him. He made to leave.

 

“Fine,” the smith said as Loki took his first step away. “Ask him. Hope you like weak uru and no sense of balance.”

 

“We dislike that less than we dislike disrespect,” Loki quipped back. He strode away without turning, hoping Thor was following.

 

This turn of events was not unexpected, and probably better than if the smith had cheerfully agreed to give them whatever he’d been working on. Loki walked over to the other smith, plan unfolding satisfyingly in his mind. The bridge crossing over the stream that separated the forges was cracked and pitted. 

 

It was warmer over here; the fire dancing in the stoves threatened constantly to escape. The man working at an anvil was even shorter than Egill, but looked more ancient than his brother. Otherwise, the family resemblance was striking.

 

Loki didn’t think the dwarf had noticed them talking to the other one, as he was so engrossed in his work that it seemed that maybe he’d been cursed to hammer away at the black metal for eternity or something. But when Loki approached him and cleared his throat, he actually looked up. His irises were nearly white.

 

Loki repeated what he’d said the first time, and the smith’s expression didn’t change. So he added, with an air of haughtiness, “We asked your brother first, but he declined to accept the challenge. Prince Thor has power unforeseen in the Nine Realms. I don’t expect it’ll be easy to make something worthy of him.”

 

The dwarf exhaled like a chimney belching smoke. “Challenge, eh? Doesn’t sound like Sindri. That coward refuses to do anything that could expose him for the mediocre tradesman he is.” His voice was almost humorously deep for such a small body.

 

“He implied that you weren’t up to the task.”

 

The dwarf stopped hammering and sat on an upturned bucket. Loki could feel his brother’s heart rate picking up as he realized the plan might actually be working, or maybe he was worried that the dwarf could see right through Loki’s exaggeration. For a heavy minute, the smith looked not at the Odinsons, but beyond them out to where the twin forge roared. He seemed to be weighing outcomes. Finally, he addressed Thor. “What’s it you need, boy?”

 

“My brother said. A weapon to end this war,” Thor said with tempered dignity.

 

Loki fought very hard not to let his grimace escape the interior of his mouth. 

 

“So I heard,” the smith grumbled. “You right handed? Been training all your life with a sword, I’m sure?”

 

“Yes and yes.”

 

“Where’d you lose it?”

 

“Lose what?”

 

The dwarf gave him such a heady stare that Loki wondered whether Thor might visibly crumble. “You mean to tell me that Odin didn’t arm you when he sent you on this grand old mission to end what’s been going on for, say, your entire lifetime.”

 

Loki stiffened. He should’ve expected that they would ask questions of Thor. Could he trust him to tell the right amount of truth - to determine what the dwarf needed to hear and deploy the words like they were the unabridged story?

 

He didn’t take the chance. “Odin didn’t send us,” Loki interjected.

 

The dwarf’s eyes flicked over to him and his doubting expression sunk even deeper. Loki had a feeling that it was a well-worn one for him.

 

To fill the empty space, Thor decided to build off the statement. Perhaps he could sense Loki’s apprehension. “We left Asgard without his knowledge. Taking his weapons would’ve been a dead giveaway.”

 

The word  _ dead _ lit Loki’s memory alight; Thor wounded and gaping open, bloodied and bruised, that persistent heart of his finally giving up.

 

The dwarf nodded slowly in understanding. Something shifted in his posture. “I’m Brokkr. I think I can make you something.”

 

He stood and walked deliberately away from them; his limp switched sides every few steps. Thor grasped Loki’s upper arm and squeezed. The feeling conveyed all the joy that he would probably prefer to give in the form of a smile and hug, were they not under such icy-eyed surveillance.

 

Brokkr opened a stone trunk of sorts and began rifling through it. “It’ll be a few days. These things take time.”

 

“Take all the time you need,” Loki offered. Thor’s hand was still upon him; it had moved up to rest on his shoulder.

 

“Oh,” Brokkr recalled, “and stay away from Sindri. He’ll do you no good, and then he’ll charge you your right arm for it.”

 

Loki appreciated the information, and he thanked Brokkr for it, though certainly his opinion of Sindri was different than Brokkr wanted him to think. “We eagerly await what you have to offer us. It will be in good hands.”

 

Brokkr said nothing of their gratitude but called back without looking. “You don’t want to beg me for something, too?”

 

Loki blushed and Thor’s hand slipped off him like he was suddenly made of oil. “I fight through other means.”

 

“A magic user, eh? Maybe you will like Sindri.”

 

_ You say that like it’s a bad thing,  _ Loki thought, but he knew it was best not to push Brokkr too far today. 

 

It was an awkward silence, especially for Loki, but he got over it, thanked Brokkr again, and informed him that they would be at the inn planning the rest of their route through Nidavellir. And that they would not be back for a few days. Brokkr certainly did not give off the impression that he wanted an audience.

 

They left him to work in peace (his goodbye took the form of another low grunt) and when Loki started walking out of the smithing quarter, Thor followed him slowly. He seemed genuinely pleased with the turn of events, not that he had much to be displeased with. “I’m sorry I doubted you, brother.”

 

“I’m sorry-” Loki stopped himself from finishing his sentence. He was about to apologize for his nasty habit of treating Thor like he was incapable of making his own decisions, or having his own thoughts, which had flared up again, but he also didn’t want to start a fight or sow discord in their recently weedless garden. Better to wait until Thor brought it up again, if that ever even happened.

 

“Sorry for what?”

 

“Erm, for… I don’t know. I suppose for risking this rather than just buying a weapon or something, but it worked out, so there’s nothing to be sorry for. I suppose I’ll say it again if what Brokkr and Sindri make for you is subpar.”

 

“But Sindri isn’t making anything.”

 

“Sure he is. Or if he doesn’t, though I’m sure he will, fine, but either way you’ll have at least one weapon.”

 

Thor scuffed his boots along the cobblestones, in no hurry to reach the inn again. “You’re right. I trusted you, and you came through. As you’ve been doing a lot lately. So why even begin to apologize?”

 

“I don’t know. Habit, I guess.”

 

“You should break that habit. It does you no good.” He spoke like he really thought he was giving Loki advice he’d never thought of before.

 

Loki smiled. “So next time I say sorry, you’ll know I actually think that I’ve made a mistake?”

 

“If you’re not too much of a liar to hide it.” Coming from anyone else, it would’ve sounded like a threat. But the word  _ liar _ in Thor’s voice sounded so deliciously jokingly menacing that Loki wanted to steal it from his mouth.

 

“You know me too well,” he intoned flatly, desperate to keep what he was thinking locked up tight. Their slow amble back to the inn fermented the shame he’d allowed to flourish.

 

Because now he knew for certain, though he also knew that he should have known it before. Him and Thor were not normal, and now that Loki had seen an example of an acceptable bond of brotherhood, it was clear that they’d surpassed that boundary long ago. They had done very little of late that a casual observer would deem brotherly. Nobody would think their relationship was what it was if they did not say so. 

 

Sure, they didn’t need to be exactly like Brokkr and Sindri - cyclically antagonistic, polite at best, rubbing against each other like coarse sandpaper since they were so  _ forced  _ to share blood. Perhaps they hadn’t even spoken in years, and all of their looks at each other had been scowls. 

 

But meeting with the smiths had in itself been like plunging Loki’s heart into cold water, freezing its unstoppable hungry encroach in time, making it cool and safe enough to handle once more.

 

No, wait… had the temper solidified it? Made it even stronger? Was the feeling cemented forever, so that even if Loki tried to forget it, the knowledge of what it once felt like would be stuck in it inextricably?

 

Loki bit his tongue. This metaphor was really getting away from him. And just when he thought he might’ve learned better.

 

“Do you want to go back already?” Thor asked like he already knew the answer was no.

 

Loki shrugged, feeling a soured pull of affection towards his brother. “I’m not tired. I don’t think they’ll be offended if we wander.” The image of Loki’s hands wandering over Thor filled his mind. Apparently, no word was sacred.

 

“They’ll have to come and find us if they need us,” Thor said impishly, and turned a dark corner like he was hiding from someone, waiting for Loki with a hand outstretched. How did he know so intimately how to torment him?

 

Loki smiled in spite of himself. He couldn’t resist Thor, ever, and he especially couldn’t resist excited-adventurous-let’s-go-get-into-trouble Thor. So he collected his feelings and followed.

 

* * *

 

They were alone, and Loki didn’t feel a single curious eye upon them.

 

The alleyway was bright: one of those uru reflectors shined right onto Thor’s face, but he didn’t shy away from the light in his eyes. When had he grown so tall?

 

Loki stood leaning against the wall opposite him. His hands searched for purchase on the sun-warmed stone, but he was only successful in scraping his fingertips half-raw.

 

Thor’s eyes were made almost golden. They were clearer than a summer day, more brilliant than gold shining on a streambed. They looked like they might fill with tears at any moment.

 

He stepped forward and brushed back the tendril of hair that had escaped from Loki’s loose bun. His eyes clouded; he was so close. In one motion he wrapped an arm around Loki’s waist and another grasped the back of his neck and the fingernails dug in and his cheek pressed against Loki’s. His breathing was stuttered and afraid on Loki’s ear and it fogged his mind. They said nothing. They thought nothing.

 

Loki was petrified. They had never felt more like brothers than in that moment.


	24. Chapter 24

Three days, evidently, was all it took to forge a weapon for Thor, but it was also enough to diminish Loki’s guilt over corrupting his brother as he felt he had. The moment in the corridor, after he had done his seemingly daily duty of sweetening their fate by way of his deal with the smith, had been brief. Just a body pressing up on another body, gratitude flowing out one and into another. It had been brief and quiet and chaste. But it had multiplied.

 

They passed the hours waiting for Brokkr wandering around Rigsthula and taking care not to mention what would happen once they did have the weapon and no longer had much of a reason to stay. None of the dwarves asked how long they would be there, though it seemed that there was an unspoken agreement that they were only waiting on Brokkr, as they had been guaranteed safe passage to Muspelheim already. 

 

Loki had been unsure whether they would uphold this timeline. The longer they were around the dwarves, the more they felt that their enthusiastic welcome had been short-lived. Their hosts were not being rude, or giving them trouble in any way. Neither were they cheering each time the Odinsons entered a room anymore. Centuries, evidently, provided enough time to get used to not having visitors. 

 

But as the dwarves’ patience grew thinner, Loki’s flourished. This was easy. They were fed, had a place to rest, and were in no danger. Only the danger of growing disinteresting to their hosts, and Loki didn’t care much about that.

 

Hence the wandering. When one wanders, sometimes one finds oneself completely alone and out of sight, disappeared from the world. But as often as it happened to the Odinsons as they explored the silent city, Loki was starting to suspect that Thor was specifically seeking out their solitude.

 

Their first…  _ embrace,  _ Loki had decided to christen it, was the most overt thing Thor had yet done. Mostly they just talked, often about nothing, sometimes about themselves, but mostly about Nidavellir (Thor had great plans for it when this was all over). And as their words filled the air and sunk into one another’s ears, their legs or hands, too, would end up tangled together, like it would help the flow of ideas. Or Thor would simply thank Loki  _ (again) _ with an extended hug. Nothing so romantic as a brush of cheeks or lips finding lips, and certainly nothing towards the amorphous and fickle area below Loki’s stomach. Though, sometimes, even the most innocent of touches or looks was enough to ignite that.

 

It didn’t matter. Just the mere thought of Thor would be capable, if he couldn’t have looks or touches. Loki didn’t need those things for his feelings to deepen yet more.

 

Not that he did anything about them. His fear dominated everything else within him. He could wait, he constantly reminded himself. His patience was getting stronger, not weaker. He would not do anything like, say, trying to kiss Thor. That was far too risky, and dense with unanswerable questions.

 

What if Loki was wrong, and it felt all wrong, and he didn’t want this?

 

What if he wanted it, but Thor didn’t?

 

What if they both did?

 

Loki was far too much of a coward to finally act and scatter the mist that so clouded his mind. So he settled. For brushing his lips over the base of Thor’s neck when they hugged, for tracing his fingers over Thor’s body as he slept, for looking into Thor’s eyes and imagining them full of lust for him. He already appreciated what Thor was giving him enough. Maybe someday he could even enjoy it without it being overshadowed by his vengeful crushing guilt. But even hoping for the guilt to go away made it worse.

 

Because this was purgatory. Feeling Thor’s body on his own, knowing it was normal for Thor to be physical with everyone. Hearing Thor’s praise towards him and wishing to serve Thor however he could so he could hear more of it. Reminding himself over and over of the definition of brother and worrying about whether  _ half- _ brother also meant half of the rules. And the worst of it all - that nagging curiosity that Thor was right now going through the same thing Loki was.

 

Yes, this was purgatory. And Loki wanted to dive face-first into Hel.

 

For now, though, he was being good. He was repenting for his sin, and sometimes even praying for it to go away, though he knew that was futile and his heart was not really in it. He was staying out of Thor’s mind, keeping his magic to himself, trying not to believe that that battle he’d felt inside Thor not so long ago was over… him.

 

Yet there were some things Loki just knew. Maybe it was a symptom of his prodigious magical power - advanced proficiency in perception and seeing an entire extra plane of reality would certainly lead one to make better judgements and understand things others would not, even if the nature of Nidavellir meant that he was barely using his skill. And, as conflicted as he felt about making this particular judgment, this was one of those times where he was quite positive that he could no longer write down Thor’s actions as being meaningless or happenstance.

 

Those looks held meaning. Those touches held meaning. There were too many of them, statistically, to be insignificant. Indeed, it was becoming undeniable. There were feelings within Thor, and unlike Loki, he was taking some action towards revealing them.

 

It should have been exciting, bolstering to Loki, but he soon found that, even after accepting his near-complete certainty in Thor’s feelings, his doubts had simply traversed elsewhere. The question was no longer  _ if _ , but  _ why. _

 

* * *

 

It was finally midday, those three nights after their arrival, that a messenger found them and bid them to return to the smiths’ quarter. To Loki’s relief, they had only been eating a meal in full view of the rest of the tavern’s inhabitants, which meant they were acting normal and not embracing in some odd way. If they were going to be caught, Loki would prefer it to happen after they were armed.

 

Thor jumped up, scattering the few nuts and scraps of meat he hadn’t already engulfed. Loki was somewhat slower on the uptake - the relative lack of fruits and vegetables he had been given a chance to eat during their tenure underground had not been agreeing well with his constitution. But his own enthusiasm soon overcame his laziness, and they were off running back to Brokkr without hesitation or the caution that they had used the first time. From the looks they got from passing dwarves, it was clear that the smith had not kept the fact that he was forging a weapon for an outsider a secret.

 

Their swift arrival actually seemed well-met by Brokkr, who was standing at the edge of his abode almost smiling at them. There wasn’t a new weapon in sight, but this did not bother Thor. He bounded down the stone lane by the trickling stream like a boy much younger than his age.

 

“Well met again, Prince Thor,” Brokkr said with an air of actual admiration.

 

“Good to see you, too,” Thor replied casually. He had lost the cocksucking adorative tone from before, and Loki found that this heretofore unseen haughtiness suited him much better; Thor was deserving of it. “I’ve been thinking of naught but your work since we last saw you.”

 

Well, Loki thought, if he was going to act at cocksucking again, at least it was in service of a lie. Loki knew what his brother had been thinking about, and it was rarely Brokkr. He bit his smile back, though, and said nothing. This was Thor’s moment, and it was about time Loki let him have something nice without trying to modify it in some way.

 

“I trust you won’t be disappointed.” Brokkr stood from his spot leaning against a cold anvil. “It’s inside. Follow me.”

 

For a moment, Loki feared that this weapon was about to be used on them rather than being given to Thor. But the feeling passed when he remembered just how strong Thor was, and just how good he himself was at defending them in his own way when he’d needed to. If Thor had thought the words sounded anything like a threat, he didn’t act like it as he followed Brokkr inside like a puppy. Still, Loki was not about to let him go in there alone.

 

They walked behind the forge, behind the messy piles of scrap metal and loose stones, to the crimson-hued cottage. The embers burning in pits all around made the whole building look like it was on fire. Before he stepped inside, Loki looked back. Across the stream, Sindri watched, arms folded.

 

Thankfully, the great reveal was not deep inside Brokkr’s house. In the front room, which was decorated with what else but his most beloved of creations, all lining the walls and gracing sturdily carved stands, was a massive table covered in a deep purple cloth. Brokkr went to stand behind it like a shopkeeper, clearly hoping to impress. Loki thought it funny that the gruff disposition of three days ago had apparently been a mere mask for what was obviously a deep desire for praise. It made him wonder what was underneath Sindri’s.

 

It was an awkward encounter despite the engaged enthusiasm of all of them, and Loki got the feeling that Brokkr hadn’t made something for anyone, or really even spoken to anyone in quite some time. At least he didn’t shout  _ behold!  _ or anything equally as embarrassing when he finally threw off the regal purple veil.

 

Beneath it, sharp and elegant, was an axe. It was black and shiny and the faces of its artfully curved head were inlaid with the most beautiful of patterns. It was massive, too, so much so that Loki was curious as to how Brokkr even moved it over here. Few but Thor would be capable of wielding such a thing - Loki’s direction to make a weapon fit for him had been heeded. 

 

When Loki stopped admiring it and looked back to Brokkr, the pride in his face was almost laughable. Thor’s expression was strange. 

 

“It’s perfect,” said Thor with an almost erotic tinge. “You have my deepest thanks.”

 

There was a shift in Brokkr’s eyes. “I assure you that thanks will be... well-deserved.”

 

“I’ll sing your praises across the lands I free from the Jotun terror. Your name will echo out from each of the giants I slay.” Thor reached out and stroked the thick handle adoringly.

 

Brokkr’s smile reached uneasy levels of smarminess. “Excellent. P-pick it up, feel its weight, see how it responds to you.”

 

Thor acquiesced, but if anything special happened when he took it in both of his hands, it was below Loki’s level of perception. The room was too small to try a swing without hitting anything, but Thor seemed pleased nonetheless. “May I try it out in the open? Is there a training ground somewhere ‘round here that I might practice with it?”

 

“Yes,” the smith hissed. “But there is… one thing I ask first.”

 

Loki almost laughed as his stomach turned to lead. He  _ knew _ he should have been expecting this.

 

“What is it?” asked Thor, unfazed.

 

“You agreed upon a bargain, and I expect your side of it in return before you take it. It’s only fair.”

 

Loki distinctly remembered them agreeing to no such thing, but knew that Thor would promise the smith anything he had to keep the axe for himself.

 

Thor nodded, still admiring the weapon. He was now tracing his fingers along the patterned designs like it was a lover. “Yes, that is fair. What is it you wish for, esteemed Brokkr?”

 

Brokkr had almost succeeded in putting back on the mask; his voice no longer stuttered and there was no tentativeness in his eyes. “Your brother tried so hard to convince me of your power. I would love to be sure that I have made a weapon for a warrior worthy of it.”

 

“How?” Thor asked, nerves creeping back into his voice. Loki knew he did not like being challenged this way, and Loki himself didn’t like it either.

 

It was silent for a few moments. If Brokkr was trying to build tension, he was doing an outstanding job of it. He stretched his hands out on the table and grinned menacingly. “A simple task. Kill our Queen Motsognir.”

 

Loki winced; the acid in Brokkr’s voice had instantly curdled that silence. Thor’s grip on the axe tightened, as if saying goodbye, and then he returned it to the table; it made an ugly sound. “May I speak with my brother?”

 

“Of course. Take all the time you need.” His confidence had reached dangerous levels and it made Loki want to retch. Like ten ticking clocks, his fingers drummed the stone table.

 

Unable to be in the room any longer, Loki fled and Thor followed him. They strode purposefully together far out of earshot, by the bustling creek whose sound might help to obscure their discussion. Better, Loki thought, for he feared an argument.

 

They stood opposite one another and Thor looked him dead in the eye. “I can do it, Loki. I know I can, with that axe. I’ll cut down all of them if I have to. But I can’t do it without you.”

 

Loki knew that he shouldn’t be surprised by Thor’s sudden desire for violence - he knew that he had always had it in him, of course being armed would nudge it out - but still he could not suppress the anger that rose in him at it. Thor really, truly, wanted to assassinate the ruler of another nation, a peaceful one, one that had been so accommodating to them? Thor, the prince of Asgard, was willing to put their lives and the entire fate of their mission at stake for… an axe? This volatile, shortsighted idiot he called brother - this was who Loki had chosen to love so?

 

But before he could erupt in exasperation, he reminded himself that perhaps, once again, Thor simply needed his guidance. Apparently, he never learned. Apparently, he would always need Loki. 

 

So when he said indignantly, “Thor, have you lost your mind?” it came out sounding much calmer than he truly felt. Which was probably for the best.

 

“Have you?” Thor retorted with significantly more ire. “How do you expect to kill Laufey, brother? How do you think we will even get far enough into Jotunheim to find him? I can’t just- I don’t have your power, Loki. I am nothing without a weapon. I need this.”

 

Loki’s rage had quickly boiled down to a simmer; he was tired and not in the mood for this right now. “We won’t make it to Jotunheim if we destabilize an entire realm first.” 

 

“It’s already unstable. We will be stabilizing it.”

 

“This isn’t the right way, Thor.”

 

“Then what is?”

 

Loki bit his lip; the pressure inside him was nearing a breaking point and he was not feeling up to dealing with it, especially over what should have been a minor hiccup in their preparations. Damn his feelings for so easily flitting from affection to rage and back again, exhausting him as they scurried. “You’ve trusted me before. Could you do it just one more-”

 

“Yes, Loki, I have! Could you try trusting me?” His voice boomed and he seethed like a navy thundercloud. The light from the setting sun reflecting down to them flashed in his eyes.

 

The question, now, was whether Loki wanted Thor to abate. Rage, he remembered. Rage would be the key to making it all detonate. All of that power, and how it might erupt out of him in passion and violence and perhaps lust. So long Loki had wanted to see it, but it had been such an empty desire. He had lacked conviction; he had been too afraid of being the spark, in case the rampage engulfed him, too.

 

Of course, if it came out as lust, Loki would embrace it in kind.

 

His eyebrows knitted together and he searched Thor’s face for answers. It seemed like so long ago that Loki had mapped it out in his mind, committed it to memory so he could see each deviation and study it, learn from it. He knew this expression well. Unflinching determination. Thor knew what he wanted, and nobody but Loki could stop him from getting it.

 

This time, Loki did need to stop him. As his passion for Thor had grown, his love and fury had ballooned in equal measures, those two most brutal of emotions they shared on the deepest of levels. That shadow was now dark and vast. He stared up at Thor, hands clenching into fists; the magic he had been keeping neatly tucked away since entering Nidavellir tugged and pinched under his skin, begging to be let out.

 

If Thor wouldn’t let his power run its course, Loki would have to show him how. “I’ll trust you when you earn it,” he finally snarled.

 

Distantly, he felt something breaking.

 

As if Loki had struck him, Thor sunk, the lines around his eyes relaxed and his voice lowered. He contained all that spiraled within him perfectly and in an instant. “How can I?” The words were quiet, intimate. It sounded like he was begging Loki for mercy.

 

They sent a shudder. They were exactly what Loki needed to hear. “Can I show you?” He sounded as broken as Thor did.

 

“Please.”

 

Suddenly, Loki felt very ashamed for how brusque he’d been. They shouldn’t have fought. He shouldn’t have made it worse. He wasn’t saying sorry, but what came out of his mouth, flowing freely and fast, was more of an apology than he thought himself capable of expressing. “I can’t do it here. I had been avoiding telling you this. Thor, I can’t… This place stifles me.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“Magically. I wasn’t telling you because I didn’t want to give you a reason to want to leave earlier. But all of this rock, I found, absorbs my seidr. There’s something wrong with it. And it’s been making me weaker. I don’t think it’s an accident.”

 

Thor actually didn’t seem surprised. Had Loki been acting so groggy this entire time? Perhaps that’s why his times alone with Thor had been so easy and pleasurable - he was growing simple. Thor’s sad smile seemed almost knowing. “Is that why Vali is no longer with us?”

 

“Yes and no. I’m not so powerless that I couldn’t keep up that spell in here, not with you around bolstering me. Without you, I’m not so sure. But I didn’t think the dwarves would take too well to it.” As he spoke, the pressure in Loki bled out. This was… more than he had planned on telling Thor. He had not realized just how much he’d been keeping locked tight in his subconscious. It gave him a queer measure of relief to say all of it out aloud, especially since he had been too afraid to admit it to himself. Even so, he couldn’t be that surprised at his lack of attention. Thor had been providing him with plenty of other things to fill his mind with.

 

“So... what do you think we ought to do?”

 

“I don’t know. I know we said we’d stay until we had a plan.”

 

“Do you have a plan?” Thor asked tentatively. The words were growing tired in his mouth.

 

“No. My mind has been elsewhere.”

 

Thor smiled. “Where?”

 

Loki couldn’t resist reciprocating it, but still he glanced down, embarrassed. “Just… elsewhere.” Certainly Thor was not so slow that he couldn’t guess exactly what had been occupying Loki. Not when every look, every touch Loki gave him was thick with yearning.

 

“It’s okay, brother,” he said reassuringly. “Mine has been, too. And I don’t trust myself to refocus it on anything so boring as planning.”

 

“Me neither.” Loki looked back up and found himself coming back to reality - the darkness in Rigsthula was falling, the sounds of the city increasing in volume as its descendants gathered for supper. As much as he wanted to stay in that churning, volatile world of just him and Thor and the maelstrom of their muddled emotions, he knew that they couldn’t keep Brokkr waiting.

 

Thor sighed. “I take it it’s a no to the axe, then?”

 

“You know what I’ll say, Thor. There will be another one. One that isn’t tied to killing a queen.”

 

“It would be a good story to tell, though. Of my first kill.”

 

Loki’s mouth twisted. He didn’t know what to think of Thor suddenly feeling so nonchalant about murder. It wasn’t the right time to bring it up, but at some point he wanted to ask Thor what had changed. “If you even survived the encounter. And seeing as I’m not helping you… your history with danger hasn’t been golden.”

 

“There’s a first for everything.”

 

“We will have plenty of chances for firsts once we are out of this place.” The double meaning of  _ firsts _ was unintentional, but it made that hungry spot below Loki’s stomach twitch excitedly.

 

It seemed that the word was not lost on Thor, either, because now he almost seemed anxious to be gone; he bounced on his toes and gleamed with bridled energy like the Thor Loki knew so well. “So that’s it, then? We’re leaving?”

 

“I’m ready if you are.”

 

“Do you want to go tell Brokkr-”

 

Loki shook his head no quickly. “I do not want to see him again.”

 

Thor looked back at the house. He seemed much less confident. But Brokkr was nowhere to be seen. Probably lurking and plotting how to get Thor into the upper reaches of the city.

 

Loki didn’t want him thinking about that. The urge to leave had taken hold of him and now he felt its inextricable pull away from the foreboding darkness of the smithing quarter. “Come on, Thor. I think it’ll be far more difficult to have to say it to his face. Better to be out of here as quickly as possible.”

 

Thor reluctantly agreed, and they hustled away from the brook and back up the path. Loki was very grateful that he’d determined the best course out of Rigsthula before coming back here. Once more, his eyes were drawn upwards to the weapons hanging from the rock. He smirked to himself.

 

“You know, Thor, if you wanted to take one of those swords, just in case… I wouldn’t tell on you.” 

 

Thor raised his eyebrows at him. “Would you hide it for me?”

 

“Of course,” Loki replied with a smooth hint of venom. 

 

And so Thor scurried over to the ragged stone wall and quickly selected a weapon - a short sword, rather plain but sharp as sin. He handed it to Loki and Loki stowed it away, unable to wipe the smile off his face all the while. It felt fitting to be thieving once more, and even better that Thor was acquiescing to it so easily. Even if this had been Thor’s idea to begin with.

 

Feeling resolved, they hurried away towards the docks on the north side of the city. If any of the dwarves they passed were confused as to why Thor was not wielding a massive overwrought axe, they said nothing of it. It was becoming very clear that their novelty had worn almost entirely off. 

 

In the strangest of ways, being unwanted here gave Loki a vindicated sort of pleasure. Though they were still surrounded by the stifling rock, he was beginning to feel more like himself again. He had a feeling that it had a lot to do with the lies, stealing, cheating, and general dishonesty that he was remembering how to embrace.

 

* * *

 

As expected, the docks were quiet. They sat restfully on the border of a small but deep-looking lake whose water was as black as Loki’s hair. There was only one exit - a gaping hole in the rock opposite them through which the water slowly flooded out.

 

The few boats harbored here were small and clearly made more for passengers than for cargo; the embargo on trade with the outside realms and apparent ease at which each city grew its own underground crops meant that there wasn’t much use for travel here. Loki had been promised that one would be marked for them and they could use it to drift down the river to Muspelheim, and there it was, maybe three feet wide at its largest point, but surprisingly luxurious, with padded seats crossing it and carved sea serpents adorning its exterior. Loki noticed that it was, in fact, made of wood. Wood was not native to Nidavellir.

 

Quietly they stepped inside after ensuring that they were well-stocked on supplies and would not go hungry until they reached Muspelheim, where they could hunt the tough game that managed to survive the harsh landscape. Thor untied them from the dock and they floated unsteady as Loki sat and checked the map one final time. Thor bent down to find the dark metal paddles stowed under the seats.

 

He made a sharp noise of surprise. Loki bolted up, afraid that they were being attacked.

 

It was the furthest thing from that. Thor’s mouth hung open. From the bottom of the boat he pulled out a hammer - small for a weapon, but so threateningly solid that there was no doubt in Loki’s mind that it would shatter a frost-giant into snow. Its head was metal, but lighter in color than that black stuff Nidavellir was full of. The handle was wrapped in leather. Otherwise, it was plain.

  
Thor held it aloft, speechless. A small tag hung from it. He passed the hammer to Loki - it was so heavy that he nearly dropped it to the bottom of the lake; it thudded on the bottom of the boat and Loki let it sit there as he examined it rather than trying in vain to hold it himself. The tag read  _ use me well. _


	25. Interlude VI

Freyja stood, scowling fiercely, on the grand balcony. She had been doing this often of late - after so long weeping silently in a darkened room, one tends to crave fresh air. Out here, she could see halfway out of Asgard. Could’ve been less than halfway now, the way the war was currently going. There was little sign of violence in the open air. Only gold dust and cherry blossoms.

 

As a light-elf, her sight was better than a hawk’s. Asgard hadn’t changed; the capitol was still a peaceful and prosperous place. Her incessant watching hadn’t been productive. But at least it had gotten her out of the castle.

 

It had been a dour place to be lately. Slowly, but with great force, a shift had taken place. Freyja found that she was living in direct counterpoint to her husband. The months had taken a toll on him, not to mention the verbal whipping he’d received upon his return from Jotunheim. As he had grown distant and despondent, Freyja had started to feel the struggling embers within her crackling. From near-nothingness, her fire reignited and spread.

 

Now that Odin had sunk, finally, into his damned sleep, she felt herself engulfed. This time, her place on the marble balcony wasn’t spent looking out idly, waiting with baited breath, her seidr extended as far as it could go, feeling for Thor’s presence for as long as she could before exhaustion overcame her. This time, she was plotting.

 

The last time the Odinsleep had occurred, Freyja had a newborn babe on her breast. A hundred years later, it was fitting that Thor was its cause once more… but, as she bitterly reminded herself, it was never about Thor alone, but the  _ other  _ king, and his  _ other  _ son. She had long since stopped absolving Odin of the blame for that. For a king, he was impossible at dealing with adversity. Especially adversity of the emotional sort. 

 

Freyja knew that she was not much better, but at least she wasn’t  _ asleep _ right now. At least when she was truly upset, she did something about it. She faced her fears and sprinted towards them with words sharper than swords on her tongue. And, sure, sometimes it took a lot to rile her. That was a product of maturity, and quite often she considered it a good thing.

 

However, her only son had been gone for half a year now. She thought that qualified as enough to make her truly upset. 

 

It was that other boy, she knew it. Those Jotuns had a way of ruining everything. Worse, they made everything they touched  _ beg _ to be ruined. With no word of Thor’s body being found, and no warning from any of the realms about sighting a hurt and confused Asgardian prince stumbling through the wilderness, she knew that… that Loki… was a clever one. It was the only possibility. Loki had taken him.

 

No doubt they were headed towards Jotunheim right now. Thor most certainly bound, in chains, cold and miserable. He would be a prisoner of war there until Odin conceded. Poor Thor… in so much pain, powerless, missing his parents, thanks to one regrettable mistake so long ago. Freyja was past the stage where she silently wondered what her son’s fate was. Of course Loki could be expected to be working with Laufey, or else why wouldn’t he have delivered Thor back here, a deal in his conniving little mind? An exchange?

 

Yes, indeed, Freyja was now quite positive that her son had been kidnapped. With Odin out of the way, she finally felt free to do what they should have done in the first place.

 

She stormed off the balcony, and all the better, for it was starting to rain. She was headed to the library. She would set a task force to pore over maps and find the most likely routes the Great Betrayer could be taking to his homeland. Then she would send focused, trained teams to scour each one, searching for traces of them, and within a few weeks she would have them pinpointed and back safely in Asgard. Loki would be returned (“banished” she would consider it, but that wasn’t the rhetoric she knew to use). A deal would be struck with Laufey, and their brittle peace would resume. Normalcy would be restored.

 

This would work, Freyja convinced herself. It was logical, methodical, and realistic, and therefore it had to work.

 

Only one thing could foil it. An idea she refused to truly entertain. It was  _ quite  _ impossible that Thor was still gone because he wanted to be gone. A mother’s greatest fear - that maybe, just maybe, her child could be the enemy.


	26. Chapter 26

“It’s…”   
  


“It’s perfect. Loki, you’ve done it.” Thor took the hammer back into his hand with an almost unnatural deftness. Loki found that he preferred admiring it from that vantage point than from where it had sat in front of him, mocking him for his weakness. How was it so heavy? The other Nidavellirian weapons had been light and elegant, a product of the metal’s low density but high strength. 

 

This hammer defied that. Its head was bluntly rectangular, its handle just long enough for both of Thor’s hands to wrap around it. It almost seemed a cross between a classical warhammer and one meant for building. And, somehow, as heavy as the stars themselves. An ambiguous weapon.

 

But a weapon regardless, and an impressive one at that. Loki was so relieved he could’ve kissed Sindri. Ash-covered beard and all. “Thor, can I be honest with you?” he asked, still rather awestruck.

 

“I’d prefer it if you always were,” Thor said plainly.

 

“I didn’t know this would happen.”

 

They started drifting away from the dock; their goodbye could not have been different than their welcome. “If you would’ve told me you did, I would have believed you,” Thor admitted.

 

Loki smiled. “I know. But I truly was not betting on this. I hoped for it; I had a feeling. But I was prepared to leave here with nothing but that stolen sword.”

 

Thor set down the hammer and took up an oar, sitting down backwards in the boat and beginning to row slowly towards the mouth of the river. It was lucky that Loki wasn’t claustrophobic, because they would not have much headspace once they had left the city. Evidently, the tunnel was partially dwarf-made, and they tended not to prefer high ceilings.

 

“I’m glad you were wrong,” Thor said playfully. “Er… right. And I’m glad you’re telling me either way.” The smile in his eyes was so deep that Loki wondered whether it might be permanent. He added with just the right amount of mischievous spite, “That’s growth, Loki! It took… how long has it been, half a year? You’ve finally learned to be honest with me.”

 

Loki nodded in agreement. He, too, couldn’t seem to allow the corners of his mouth to return to a neutral position. Maybe Thor was right. Sure, there was one massive thing he was still confidently lying about, but that was it. From the sound of it, his trust had been earned for good. “And you’re still alright with us leaving?” he asked, not meaning to change the subject so much as keep Thor happy with him.

 

Thor rowed a few more strokes. The short sleeves of his shirt bunched up in protest and stayed there, afraid of being torn by his flexing muscles. “I’m alright being anywhere if I’m with you.”

 

Loki could have kicked him for being so forthright; certainly that’s what he would have done before he had realized the depth of his affection towards Thor and how he wished to display it. But his mouth again betrayed him. “Even Jotunheim?”

 

Though Thor was still rowing and the hammer was not even in his hands, it seemed to twitch a fraction of an inch. “Even Jotunheim,” he answered. “I can’t wait to try this out. I couldn’t tell you why, Loki, but it feels… it feels like it was made for me.”

 

Technically, of course, it had been made just for him. But the degree to which it fit Thor was just as much of a source of mystery for Loki as it was for Thor himself. Nobody in Rigsthula would have been capable of making such a thing save Sindri. How had the dwarf known?

 

With a pang, Loki recalled the time he had wondered whether Thor could see the inner landscape of his own mind. He could probably be forgiven for it, given his upbringing, but Loki was very good at forgetting that others were also capable of magic. He knew that very few dwarves had any ability in it, and that when they did, it was weak. Perhaps Sindri was an exception to that.

 

Perhaps he had seen Thor at his deepest. Perhaps he knew even better than Loki, who feared exploring Thor in that way anymore, what Thor desired.

 

It was all Loki could do not to feel jealous.

 

“I think you’ll be able to do that before long. The dwarves weren’t exaggerating when they spoke of the dangers of Muspelheim,” Loki said, trying to divert his muddled thoughts.

 

“And they also said they were sleeping. What will we do to wake them, brother?”

 

The innuendo wasn’t lost on Loki, and it was strong enough that he could not even try to convince himself that it wasn’t intentional.

 

“I think that just our presence will be enough,” he said. “Though, if you want to wake them, I can think of a few things.” He should be damned for that last part.

 

Thor smirked and looked down, perhaps to hide a blush. “What do you know of Muspelheim? Mother avoided the subject with me when we were young.”

 

“Why?”

 

“She thought it too dark a topic for one my age.”

 

Loki laughed incredulously. “How old were you when you asked?”

 

“Not very old.”

 

“And then you stopped asking?”

 

“Aye.” The answer was clear. Thor’s attention had diverted elsewhere once he had the sufficient musculature to hold aloft a sword. But Loki already knew that.

 

“Well, it’s uninhabited. At least by creatures that you and I might consider intelligent. It’s… extreme. The molten rock flows like water, and in massive quantities, but so does the snow from the sky. The sun rarely shines. The light is red and hot. The ice, too, is so cold that it feels like flames. It will be a good introduction to Jotunheim, in that way.”

 

Thor listened patiently as Loki explained what he’d read of the land of fire and snow. He did not have much detail to give. It was rarely visited, on account of the dragons.

 

“Dragons?” Thor asked with a nonchalance that belied his excitement when Loki brought up that part.

 

“The monsters the dwarves warned us of. They hibernate for much of their lives, but certain events cause them to stir. I dearly hope we won’t be present during mating season.” This was not actually a joke. The mating season of dragons varied wildly and as they were a low priority for Asgardian conservationists, no pattern had ever been identified. Fortunately, they numbered in the dozens and not the millions.

 

Dark clouds drew over Thor’s eyes and Loki knew he had fantasies of slaying one of the beasts. If Loki had any say in it, they would not come within miles of one. He was not interested in taking such gambles with either of their lives.

 

“Don’t get heroic, Thor. They’re not hurting anyone. They’re the true rulers of Muspelheim, and as such, I’ll be keeping you from assassinating them as well.” He tried to keep his tone light, but it was difficult to when he felt this seriously about it.

 

“I had no such plans.” He smiled dangerously. “How would you keep me from doing such a thing, brother?”

 

They had entered the main part of the river, now, and though torches lined the walls, it was recklessly dim. “I have my ways,” Loki purred.

 

The current was fast enough that Thor no longer needed to row, but not so fast that they might capsize. Thor put the oar back into the boat’s bottom and picked the hammer up like it was a baby that needed feeding. “Would you show me those ways?” he asked, voice lower than the grumble of the water over rocks.

 

Loki’s heartbeat picked up like he was suffocating. He could hardly see Thor in the low light. He suddenly regretted the fact that they only seemed to hold each other when things were bad. If he only brought up Laufey, Odin, their fated mission, his secrets, his parentage,  _ all  _ of the bad, would Thor hold him? Would he comfort him, still his betrayer’s mouth, tell him that all would be well? Would he throw him overboard, curse him, smite him where he sat with that infernal hammer?

 

He hated himself, for he was still too much a coward to find out.

 

Thor wasn’t, though. Thor had courage. Courage enough to put back down the hammer, and take Loki’s hands in his own. “Loki,” he muttered. “I know… I can feel how you’ve been off since we’ve been here. And I’m sorry. We’ll be out soon. Muspelheim won’t interfere with your magic, will it?”

 

“No,” Loki answered through half-cracked vocal cords. “It’ll be quite the opposite, I think. The open space, the elements everywhere.” He laughed a little to himself. “I’ll probably need to use it a lot. We’ll freeze otherwise.” 

 

“And that means a lot of me helping you out, right? That’s what you said. That I bolster you.”

 

“It does.”

 

“Then it can’t come soon enough.”

 

* * *

 

The literal light at the end of the tunnel came not long after their discussion. It bathed them in innocence once more, something Loki felt himself in need of. As they sat quietly in the boat, he had let his thoughts drift far too deep. The depths beckoned him, and he felt them awakening something within him, something violent and ancient and very, very hungry. He had let them fester there, too. All of the seidr-stealing rock around probably made it worse, by containing it within him where it was quickly starting to rot.

 

But it hadn’t time to spread over him entirely. The light made the decay recoil. They were out, now, and Thor was happy, and that, Loki knew, was all that mattered. 

 

He had shuddered mightily when they were finally free of all the rock. Instinctively, though they were still in the realm and Loki knew that there existed no terrestrial organisms to feel, he opened himself up, feeling his seidr ebb from the recesses of his black heart to the open air.

 

He expected to feel nothing, save Thor. But there was an interloper. And it was in the boat with them.

 

It felt… less cognizant than an animal, and certainly less than an Aesir, but more than a plant. Its energy was clearly blue, but not the sullen blue of ice, nor the foreboding navy of the night sky. It was… a heat. Disregarding what Thor might be wondering about how he was entirely zoning out, Loki let himself drift further out of reality, fixating in on the epicenter.

 

The heat was the heat of home, of starry eyes, of the prickles Loki got under his lungs when Thor was nearest, the same thing that made one stare into the fire for hours unending, the most primitive of desires coaxed out and stoked until screaming and overflowing with life.

 

It made Loki feel whole.

 

But wholeness did not discriminate against the parts of him he had been neglecting for fear. It stoked the rot, too. And so it was too much.

 

With a whimper, he withdrew.

 

He tasted blood; he had bitten his own tongue too tightly.

 

“Loki?” called Thor from far away. “Are you okay?” The sound drew closer.

 

Loki tried to open his eyes without letting free the tears that had welled within him. He had not expected such a reaction within himself from the return of his seidr. “I’m… I’m fine.”

 

“You don’t look fine.” Thor’s tone was concerned rather than accusatory. It should have been accusatory.

 

“I’m… alright, I’m not.”

 

He distantly heard the sound of the oar once again being set down, and Thor carefully moved closer to him. He wiped the tears away and drew Loki’s messy hair back from his face. It was, frankly, embarrassing.

 

“I’m sorry,” Loki said, forgetting entirely how he’d pledged to stop using the platitude emptily. “I wasn’t expecting that. We spent too long in Nidavellir, Thor. My seidr… I let it back out, and it affected me more than I affected it.”

 

Thor soothed him wordlessly with long strokes of his thumb along Loki’s back. 

 

It probably wasn’t the best time to bring it up, and in a better mind Loki would have not dared to say it at all. But honesty was coming easier than lies lately. “It’s your hammer, Thor. There’s something about it. It’s not just a hammer.”

 

“What of it?”

 

“I can’t explain it. It would take explaining everything I feel when I’m in that state, and I don’t know if I am capable of doing that.”

 

Thor was silent.

 

Loki laughed a little and shook his head. “There I go, not saying anything at all again. I should probably try, shouldn’t I?”

 

“I won’t think less of you either way.” The look in Thor’s eyes indicated that there was nothing in the world that would make him think less of his brother.

 

“Well, it felt like you.”

 

Thor’s expression didn’t change. 

 

Loki knew that he needed to go into detail, difficult as it was for him to admit all the snooping he had been doing in his brother’s mind that had allowed him to get to such a point that he could identify what exactly what different about the hammer. “You see, everyone has walls they put up to prevent others from digging too far inside. Some more than others, for instance, the dwarves are like their ubiquitous rocks, inscrutable and flat from the inside out. But most of us, our inner worlds are vast and storied and riddled with contradiction. Our walls are strong, but if one knows how, they can be circumvented.”

 

To Loki’s relief, Thor didn’t look too bewildered. It was possible that Freyja, as a light-elf (nearly all of them had impressive skill in magic) would have told him of this before. It was also possible that he simply liked to hear Loki speak. Especially when he was telling secrets.

 

So he continued. “I’ve found myself to be rather skilled with digging under walls. Especially, erm…” he swallowed hard, “yours.”

 

He waited to see how Thor reacted to this. Naturally, he didn’t react at all.

 

“I haven’t been doing it to… I don’t know, infiltrate your privacy or do anything nefarious. I was only curious.”

 

Thor nodded like he was watching a lecture. This was becoming maddening.

 

“It was only a couple times. But it was enough to know what you felt like, and Thor,” he continued, speaking as quickly as he could, “that hammer feels like it was borne directly from inside your skull.”

 

“How would that have happened?”

 

“My best guess is that Sindri is capable of doing what I do, and snuck inside without you noticing. That, or he got extraordinarily lucky. Or it had nothing to do with Sindri and the universe decided to gift us with precisely what we needed most.”

 

It was a godsend that Thor didn’t seem to be offended by this. Or even surprised. Was this what life was like to be someone for whom total honesty actually had some weight? That someone could reach inside you and create the thing you desired most without your knowledge, and you would thank them for it?

 

Loki knew he understood Thor well, but he didn’t think he would ever understand that. 

 

Thor exhaled slowly and stared past Loki, back up the wide winding river with its steep banks and sheer cliffs blocking much of the sun. Finally, he spoke. “What do you see when you look inside me, Loki?”

 

Loki steeled himself. “A battle.”

 

“Between who?”

 

“You’re the only one in there, Thor.”

 

* * *

 

Thor had wanted time to think on recent revelations, and so Loki gave it to him, and they drifted down the river in silence. Their travel was much quicker this way than it had been on foot, not to mention easier, though it provided a certain sense of idleness that made Loki uneasy. He took to mentally going through the spells he’d been neglecting, organizing the messy piles of things now stashed in his magical pocket, and trying to read Thor without making it obvious that he was doing so.

 

Even with the pace of the river, which was quick without being hazardous, Thor rowed. He rowed without breaking or tiring, with the unrelenting rhythm of a machine, and Loki gathered that he was trying to outpace his own thoughts. As such, they were nearly to Muspelheim by sundown.

 

They moored the boat on a sandy beach, washed out from the coursing river, where the mountains began not to level out, but to change in substance from the ugly crimson to a more palatable slate-grey. The river cut a small valley to the west before abruptly diverting south towards the sea, so they wouldn’t be able to use it to travel the entire way through the fire land. This wasn’t too disappointing, as the molten rock flowing just underneath Muspelheim’s surface heated the river to boiling, and this wasn’t a risk Loki wished to take.

 

Besides, he rather missed the cadence of his own legs over the land. And the loneliness Muspelheim guaranteed them was enticing; the only eyes that could watch them were attached to creatures not capable of speech. Despite his worries over Thor being left alone to think all day, Loki felt hopeful. 

 

He welcomed the change of scenery, and the cold breeze, and the fact that they were entering a new stage. Of their journey, but also of just...  _ them _ . 

 

Thor rolled over onto his side before he fell asleep that evening. He had been laying on his back, watching the stars, one hand on Loki’s and the other on the hammer. He whispered in Loki’s ear. “I’m glad you… looked inside of me. If you wanted to do it again…”

 

Loki was frozen.

 

“I hope it didn’t seem like I was fighting you,” he continued. 

 

“It didn’t,” Loki assured him.

 

“I would never do such a thing. No matter what you did.”

 

Though Thor didn’t know it, this was a lie. There were many things Loki could do. The most horrible part was that, in a way, he wanted to test the promise. Just to see how far Thor’s strength held.

 

Loki turned around and looked at him. The starlight was bright through the thin haze of clouds. He was going to say something, but he didn’t know what. Fortunately, Thor beat him to it.

 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Loki. I didn’t know how much I needed you until I had you. I wouldn’t be complete without you and… I was thinking, if you’re within me so much, then all I can hope for is that I am within you, too. That you need me in equal measure.” His voice was assured. He had been practicing this all day.

 

Loki had no such rehearsal. He couldn’t leave that statement unanswered. Words tugged at his mouth, none of them sufficient for how he felt. He settled on a simple, “I love you, Thor.”

 

A smile erupted across Thor’s face. “I love  _ you _ , brother.”

 

It seemed right for Loki to have left it at that, and fair for Thor to have reciprocated. Love could mean a lot of things. Love was something Thor could misunderstand, could choose to only believe the parts of it he accepted. However, Loki meant all of them.

 

He was no longer concerned whether Thor reciprocated each and every one. He had gotten the words out. He had told the truth.

 

When they awoke the next morning, a few flakes of snow lay gently atop their still bodies. If Loki had thought that telling his brother what he had would make him feel any better - any freer, any less cowardly - he was wrong. Evidently his words were not enough. No, he suspected that his heart would settle for no less than physical proof. 

 

That was  _ not _ going to happen. That was wrong. He roused Thor and they choose to abandon the boat there and walk the rest of the way to Muspelheim, because unlike Thor and his incessant rowing, Loki had no way to soothe his anxious heart in the boat. If he could have sprinted to Muspelheim without Thor thinking he was a madman, he would have.

 

The wall around Nidavellir’s western border was crumbling in places from disattention. Neither was it guarded, of course. The gleaming black metal they had seen before was in worse shape than they had thought possible; it was corroded and holey in places, and some of the gaps were so large that they could simply crawl through, which was precisely what they did.

 

When they crossed the border, it was clear what had happened to the wall. The smell of sulfur was suffocating.

 

Loki doubted the smell alone would kill them, even as it indicated the presence of mysterious and probably harmful chemicals in the atmosphere, but decided to play it safe and created for them a sort of invisible magical bubble that purified the air around their heads. He was slightly concerned, at first, that it might give them a false sense of security, and that they might forget the danger of the fire realm.

 

That concern proved to be baseless. As they followed the riverbank down the craggy, cliff-lined hill, they could feel the air changing on their skin. It was cold, cold enough that Loki retrieved their cloaks to ward off the snow and biting wind, but even though those they could feel the unbearable humidity from the steam coming off the boiling river. It made it difficult to see, not that there was much to see with the high mountains blocking the view in every direction. Perhaps they would have been better off in the boat.

 

Thor’s grip on the hammer was vice-tight as they walked carefully down the rock; it was perilously slippery from the constant indecision of the water on it over which state it was to be in.

 

“Is it going to be like this the whole way?” he asked, keeping his voice down. Even so, it echoed in increasingly higher pitches off the cliffs, like there were birds nesting there mocking his question. Loki would be very glad once they were out of the river’s reach and into the valley.

 

“No. It might get worse, actually. We haven’t even seen any geysers yet, nor any pools of lava.”

 

“That definitely makes me feel better,” said Thor with sarcasm sharper than the wind.

 

“Muspelheim is very geologically active. The landscape changes quicker than our lifetimes.”

 

Thor nodded ponderously. “No wonder nobody lives here. It would be frustrating to have to keep rebuilding your cities every generation.”

 

“That’s a rather narrow view of civilization, don’t you think? I mean, we’ve been living as nomads and getting along fine.” Loki knew he was being grating, playing devil’s advocate like this, but it was fun with Thor, since he knew he wouldn’t get mad.

 

“Would  _ you _ want to stay here, brother?” He asked like this was a serious offer and not a joke.

 

“Maybe,” Loki smiled, “I think we’d fit in quite well with the dragons.”

 

“I would be alright with that,” Thor agreed, but they kept on walking. 

 

It was a relief to Loki when they finally saw trees again, mangled and half-singed as these were. They marked a change. As the Odinsons came around the bend, they were met with a stunning view.

 

It was grander than anything they had seen so far. Mountains on either side of them, as tall as the stars and as keen as knives, swirling, blue-grey clouds obscuring their middle elevations suggesting they were more objects of sky than of land. Mangled and spotted plains, struck every so often with sudden hills, stretching between those mountains, with patches of snowless rock and pitch-black dirt framing tiny pools of water so bright with rainbow colors that they might have been the eyes of some lurking creature. Streams of lava flowed like leaking blood, and where they met water, the steam rose in iridescent clouds shimmering with malignant chemical vapor. 

 

The whole thing gave the impression of a massive, deformed creature, its jaws the toothlike mountains, waiting to snap up the next two fools who dared to enter its mouth.

 

“Can we stop here for a moment?” Thor asked quietly.

 

“Of course,” Loki replied. He relished the chance to take in the landscape before them for a few more minutes without the risk of losing his footing and slipping into the deep boiling river, never to be seen again.

 

Thor sat down his hammer. He wasn’t looking at the valley, but at Loki.

 

He said nothing at all.

 

He moved in very close.

 

He placed a hand on Loki’s neck, where his pulse had dropped to somewhere around zero. Their eyes were connected by some unbreakable force.

  
Until Thor leaned in, and put his mouth on Loki’s, and Loki felt the monster inside of him consume him  _ (no, the both of them)  _ entirely.


	27. Chapter 27

It was a wonder that they covered any ground at all after the first time.

 

They walked, yes, but only marginally. Their mouths ceased to be used for speaking. They had much better things to do with them, and anyway, words would only eviscerate the magic they had created. 

 

Loki had been right to think that words which described actions one might deem “wrong”  had that destructive power; he had been living by the adage  _ things are only wrong if you say they are _ . Even back when this new reality existed only in his imagination. Now that he had proof, he was eager to keep proving it again and again, by saying nothing at all, and kissing Thor as much as he possibly could.

 

Their steps down to the valley were punctuated by touches, the same touches they had gotten used to always doing: a holding of hands, an arm around a waist, a brief pause so that they could get closer than gravity and good sense wanted them to be. The movements were familiar, only now, they were imbued and stained bright with new meaning, of making the unsaid inarguable, of answering unasked questions and liberating caged feelings. The land spoke for them with the joy of erupting geysers and the rage of bubbling lava and the seething heat of it all. It breathed their love.

 

And the kisses, spotting it all red. In an earlier life, Loki would have thought them a distraction from their journey. Now, he knew that they were the destination.

 

He could not stop smiling, neither at himself for his sudden affection for cliché, nor at Thor for teaching him what it meant to be alive. Wasn’t this inevitable? Wasn’t this set in stone from the moment Thor showed up upon his doorstep? Thor had invoked the Norns back then. Loki had doubted them, but his faith was growing. This was only natural. There was no other way. If it was what the Norns wanted, then he supposed he loved the Norns too.

 

It was funny to him. In an earlier life, Loki thought himself loveless. Loki was woefully, wonderfully wrong. The only thing better than this realization was its counterpoint: that he was loved just as much in return.

 

Loki might’ve mistaken Thor’s feelings towards him for something else at one point. It wasn’t so long ago that he thought he had accidentally  _ cursed _ Thor, for Hela’s sake. That Thor could not possibly love him, that Loki could not possibly be worthy of love. 

 

That was another thing that he was certain he was wrong about. When Thor looked at him, it was all the proof in the world.

 

And Thor looked at him a lot. Perhaps too much, when he should have been looking at the ground, or where they were going. Loki couldn’t blame him, not when he was doing the same. And they made it down in one piece. Loki wondered whether he was supposed to thank the Norns for that, too.

 

Anything that could have been considered a road stopped abruptly after the river turned away towards the south. Any journeys through the valley would be charted by the areas of least danger, and as the dangers changed with the days, they were on their own; though the map had the largest of landmarks listed, there were things Loki could see with his own eyes that it did not note. The treeless landscape provided no cover and the air was an unsettling mix of hot and cold. It would be a treacherous trek, one they could absolutely not complete while fully transfixed on each other.

 

For these reasons, they chose to stop for the night at least three hours earlier than they needed to.

 

They chose a spot a few hundred meters from the river; cold seems more comforting than heat when one has someone to share it with. Even with the air around them magically purified by Loki’s spell, the atmosphere felt very heavy. 

 

They lay flat on the ground and watched the clouds tumble and expand into the still-light sky. There would be a storm tonight, surely. 

 

Loki was still bereft of words. He had already spoken the three that he kept thinking, over and over. It seemed like overkill to say them any more. 

 

Thor sighed contentedly. “Brother… this is my favorite day I have lived so far.”

 

Loki squeezed his eyes shut and smiled ever-wider. His ability to form words came back once Thor reminded him what they sounded like. “You’re still calling me  _ brother _ ,” he said, voice a little cracked.

 

“You’re still my brother,” Thor quietly responded.

 

“I feel a lot closer to you than that word generally entails.”

 

“Words mean whatever we all want them to mean. So that’s the fault of everyone else, not us. We’re redefining it.”

 

“That’s true,” Loki said, impressed by Thor’s logic. “But I don’t think everyone else would understand. I don’t think they would accept it.”

 

Thor laughed. “You always seem to forget that we’re  _ princes,  _ Loki. We can do whatever we like and if they don’t accept it…” he trailed off imperiously.

 

“We banish them to Muspelheim.”

 

“Yes,” Thor agreed. “So they can see what they’re missing out on. Maybe they will find it broadens their horizons.”

 

Loki nodded, thinking about how he wanted Thor to broaden  _ his _ horizons. He wasn’t sure if Thor was ready for that. He  _ really _ wasn’t sure whether he himself was. But there was only one way to find out, and that was to try. No better place, no better time.

 

Drunk on his own newfound courage, Loki sat up and rolled over to straddle his brother. (He realized quickly that this had been quite a jump, and that he probably should have started smaller, but thought it would be far worse to move away once he was already there.) He put his knees on either side of Thor’s hips and knelt there, gazing down at him. Thor looked just as surprised, but it was definitely a happy surprised, and there was something hidden in his smirk that Loki wanted to coax out.

 

“What are you going to do?” Thor teased him.

 

Loki tried not to blush. It was futile. He gave up very quickly on trying to sound experienced and suave. If that was what Thor wanted, he wouldn’t love Loki in the first place. “I don’t actually know. What do you want me to do?” He bit his lip.

 

Thor didn’t respond, but took a slow breath and swallowed, unspooling his hands. He placed them on Loki’s narrow hips, and it made Loki shiver slightly with pleasure, and pushed them down, firmly but slowly, watching Loki’s face for any signs of hesitation or doubt. This was also futile; Loki had neither. He had been waiting for so long, already, having only just realized that this was what he had been wanting for months, to keep himself off Thor any longer. Not even his inexperience could stop him now.

 

That being said, it still felt nice to have Thor make the decisions of when and how they should touch. He sat Loki down - his hips fit neatly over the top of Thor’s - and reached his arms around his back, pulling him down by the neck so that they could kiss sweetly once more. Loki happily complied, but they had kissed so much already, and as much as he loved welcoming his brother’s tongue into his mouth, he wanted to see more of him. He sat back up, resting his ass on Thor’s lap, where he could feel the just-barely-hard length of his cock. Thor’s eyelids drifted lower, obscuring the bright blue. His sigh contained the tiniest of moans.

 

Loki spread his hands across Thor’s broad chest and felt the muscles underneath twitch in anticipation, and then, overcome by the need to see his skin bared, trailed his fingers down to the hem of Thor’s heavy woolen shirt, slipping his cold hands underneath it and working them back up, unsheathing him. Thor shivered and goosebumps spread up from his hips. Loki was grateful for the cold wind. He was burning from the inside out.

 

Loki had never seen such splendor. The subtle whitish scars interrupting the smooth expanse of skin stung in his memory and he stroked them gently, thinking about how their healing had been  _ his _ work, how he had been part of Thor from the beginning of it all, from a time that seemed as distant as the cloud-covered stars above them.

 

Briefly, he also considered how he was no longer here to fix Thor, but to break him apart, just a little. So that he could be the glue that held him back together.

 

A warmer wind picked up and ripped Loki from his thoughts. So he explored upwards, feeling the lungs filling and emptying below his hands. Thor’s skin seemed so thick and world-weary. From his perspective atop him, Loki was forced to appreciate his brother’s strength that much more. He trailed his fingernail up between Thor’s collarbone. Thor looked like he was biting his tongue to keep Loki from knowing just how much this innocent act was affecting him.

 

Once Loki had traversed all the skin he could reach, he leaned back down and pressed his chest against Thor’s, trailing his lips over his shoulder, his neck, over his jaw and whispered in his ear. A hushed devotional.

 

“You are the most glorious thing that graces this bitter world.”

 

Thor hummed lightly. 

 

“I can’t be worthy of you,” Loki continued. “You are everything. Wrath incarnate.” 

 

The words  _ show me _ echoed in Loki’s head. 

 

With a sound like a growl, Thor’s hips rocked up and his hands clutched hard at Loki’s ass, making him emit a little whine from the unexpected pressure, but it was not pain he felt as Thor dug their hips together. Clothed in the thick fabric of their winter garments, the friction stung but still Thor rubbed Loki down upon himself as they kissed like they hadn’t before. This was something new; no longer was it tender but terribly hungry, alight with their twinned desires to destroy and build anew intertwined. Underneath him Loki could feel his brother’s cock starting to harden fully.

 

His was already there. It had been there, already, from before they’d hardly touched from the thought and temptation and reveled wrongness of it all. Of course, as he felt Thor’s growing alongside it, it swelled harder yet. He wanted to reach down and feel Thor’s with his hands, his face, his tongue, slip it properly between his legs, maybe even push it up inside himself, fill himself up, be at whatever mercy Thor chose to give him.

 

And now he could barely breathe. The air Thor was breathing back into his mouth was warm and wet and devoid of oxygen. It wasn’t enough, and it was too much; he could not stop thinking about Thor’s internal battles and his bottled rage and how  _ this _ was how he could be its target.

 

More than he wished to break Thor, he wished for Thor to break him.

 

The rumble of Thor’s chest was growing hideous, trembling their whole bodies, shaking the very ground as their hips moved together. Through their purified globes of air Loki could start to smell poison. 

 

“L-Loki-” Thor moaned, biting Loki’s lip and Loki’s cock was leaking; everything was happening so much, the atmosphere seemed to be breaking in two, and this  _ couldn’t  _ be right, they were just two boys, and another growl thundered through the air, but it was not Thor this time, no… no, something was very wrong-

 

Thor stopped kissing him. He stopped the movement of his hips. Loki’s eyes opened. Thor’s were wide and full of fear.

 

Loki turned his head. Above them was a glistening black dragon.

 

Without hesitation, but with a robust measure of disappointment, Loki sprung up off his brother, readying himself for battle. The beast glowering down at them was massive, with teeth as long as his forearm and golden-yellow eyes; it had gotten frightfully close while they were otherwise occupied and its black-spiked head seethed at them through sulfur-spewing nostrils. Its wings were dotted with holes. It opened its mouth wide.

 

Loki was trying very, very hard not to panic, and this was made even more difficult by the fact that his cock was still erect and confused as to why it wasn’t being attended to anymore. Even if the dragon meant them no harm, could it have possibly picked a worse time to interrupt?

 

This was irrelevant, because it  _ did _ mean them harm. Fortunately, Thor was already steps ahead of his mooning brother. Holding his new weapon aloft, he lunged towards the dragon, right at those sharp teeth (Loki’s heart stopped when the dragon went in for a bite, but Thor deftly dodged it) without trepidation or fear. Loki’s mind was reeling, screaming at both of them  _ fire! fire!  _ and he was positive Thor was seconds away from being burned alive.

 

Let it never be said that Loki lacked intuition. With an inhale so powerful that he could feel the air whistling ‘round his ears, the dragon prepared to strike. Loki swallowed hard and thought with all his might a spell to cool the air around Thor.

 

The flames erupted from that atrocious throat just as Thor leapt up and struck the dragon right in the eye. A fountain of dark blood poured from it, drenching Thor and christening the hammer, and the blow had been perfectly true; the golden eye had been destroyed utterly and the dragon’s head whipped around in pain, almost goring the warrior who was intent on slaying it. Fires burned all around him but Thor was abounding, unharmed, dancing around the dragon and landing blows on its other eye, its vulnerable neck, tearing clean open a wing, like he killed dragons for a living.

 

Save maintaining the spell keeping Thor from burning to a crisp, Loki didn’t know what to do. His brother truly seemed to be taking care of it.

 

He pressed his lips together. So  _ this _ was what Thor was capable of. 

 

The dragon was not entirely helpless, though. Even with its grievous injuries still it roared, thrashing every which way to find Thor with its bleeding and blinded eyes. Loki snapped out of his spectating and decided to make himself useful, sending knife after knife flying towards the beast, taking care not to hit Thor. None seemed to have much of an effect, though now they could at least be sure that its wings were so damaged that it would not take flight with Thor still on its back.

 

“Thor!” Loki called. He was thinking they could flee, now, or at least try and work together more directly to finish the dragon off.

 

“Yes?” Thor answered joyfully.

 

Loki made a face of confused concern. Joyfully? Was Thor actually… having fun?   
  


“Let’s go!” he shouted back. “It’s not dying!”

 

Thor landed a blow on the dragon’s belly and it  _ flipped over _ from the force of the impact. Unfortunately, this meant that its razor-sharp talons were now in the ideal position to claw cleanly through anyone who came too close. Thor was most definitely too close, but he was unfazed. He struck down at a front leg and Loki heard the bone shattering from where he stood. 

 

His mouth was probably wide open by this point. Thor was strong, but this was a fifty-foot long dragon, and that should not be possible.

 

“Hold on just a second!” Thor yelled.

 

“For what?”

 

“I’m not done!”

 

“Not done? Thor, I don’t think it’s a danger to us anymore!”

 

“It’s still alive,” he answered completely.

 

Somehow, it did still seem to be breathing, but the massive lungs were struggling for air; its mighty chest heaved up and down and without a sword, it was unclear how Thor might stop that beating heart. Thor was not so sure, either. He, too, was breathing hard, and he was no longer looking at the dragon nor at Loki, but at the hammer.

 

Then he stepped away.

 

Loki let out a pent up sigh and prepared to run. They could come back once the beast was truly dead. Thor slowly walked over to him.

 

He gave Loki a trusting look, and then he  _ threw _ the hammer, as hard as he could, directly into the dragon’s chest.

 

It cleared the armor-tough skin as if it were paper, embedded itself inside, and the beating stopped.

 

A smile spread across Thor’s face. He kissed Loki very quickly. He tasted like blood and smoke.

 

Loki did not know what to say.

 

Thor licked his lips and looked at Loki with the same pure joy that he’d had when they had first kissed. “I think it’ll do,” he said plainly.

 

“You think… what… will do what?”

 

“The hammer!” Thor said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Did you not see that?”

 

“I did.” Loki was still in a state of shock.

 

“I could -  _ never _ \- have done that before. That was… Loki, we’re going to be fine! The Jotuns don’t stand a chance!” 

 

Loki had never been interested in sports, but imagined that this was what it looked like when somebody won at one. “Thor, how are we going to get it out?”

 

Thor gritted his teeth through the smile and shrugged. “Could you help me?”

 

Digging a hammer out of a dragon’s heart was not what Loki had planned to do today. But for Thor, he supposed he had to. “If you insist…”

 

They walked between the dragon’s splayed legs, which were all bent outwards at wrong angles. Already the gore was seeping into the permeable ground. Thor was still beaming at his work. 

 

Blood poured out like a waterfall from the hole where the hammer had entered. Loki peered inside. Apparently, dragon anatomy was not so different from Asgardian anatomy. “You know, Thor, you won’t be able to do this if we’re in any sort of danger. I’m not going to be ready to retrieve your hammer whenever you decide to throw it.”

 

“I know,” Thor beamed. “That’s why I waited. It worked, didn’t it?”

 

Loki pursed his lips. “It seemed to be working just fine before…” he muttered. He supposed he shouldn’t be sounding so bitter. He couldn’t  _ actually  _ be angry, not when they were safe and Thor was this ecstatic. It was slightly difficult, though, when he was still hung up on what they had been doing before the dragon had attacked (had it attacked? had Thor attacked it first?) and wanted to get back to doing that as soon as possible.

 

“Can you get it?” Thor asked.

 

“Erm... ”

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t know. It’s probably nonsense. But I couldn’t even hold that hammer when you gave it to me. It might take a lot of my strength to use a normal retrieving spell. I think I’m going to have to try something else.” It was rather embarrassing to have to admit it, but again, he didn’t think Thor would think less of him for it. He couldn’t.

 

Thor nodded patiently. He was probably considering how disgusting it would be if he had to reach in there and get it himself.

 

Wishing very much that he had thick rubber gloves, or perhaps an entire rubber outfit, Loki felt the still-warm skin. It would be a pain to have to rip it apart. He could probably explode the whole body magically, but that would make such a mess. The best method was probably to manipulate the organs inside the body to inch the hammer out the hole it came in through.

 

Thor seemed very impatient to have it back in his hand. He stretched uncomfortably and flexed his hands out, like he felt naked in just his skin and clothing. A sound like a gurgling swamp came from the dragon.

 

Loki’s eyebrows drew together. That couldn’t be right. He hadn’t initiated any spell yet.

 

Then, suddenly, the hammer rocketed out of the wound like an arrow directly into Thor’s open hand. He caught it as easily as if he were grasping his own arm. Like it was an extension of him.

 

He gaped down at it, wide-eyed, then back up at Loki. Loki shrugged.

 

“I didn’t do anything,” he said hurriedly.

 

“Did I do something?”

 

“You must’ve.”

 

Thor’s confusion shifted to wonder. Before he could ask Loki what it meant, he turned and threw the hammer as far as he could across the plain. It whistled away through the smoke.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut quickly, opened them, and opened his hand.

 

The hammer whistled straight back happily. Again, Thor caught it. 

 

He hated to admit it, but Loki felt rather jealous. Sure, he could do that with any old hammer. Retrieving spells were easy on anything that wasn’t… this.

 

Thor twirled the hammer in his hand like it was the lightest thing in the world, then pulled Loki in for another kiss. With difficulty, Loki made himself stop making himself feel negatively about this. By all normal metrics, things couldn’t be going better. 

 

“So… we carry on?” Loki asked quietly.

 

“Of course,” Thor replied confidently, stroking Loki’s cheek with his thumb. His eyes were brimming with love, so much that even Loki couldn’t resist a smile.

 

“I would prefer it if we didn’t go out of our way to kill any more of them.”

 

Thor pecked him on the forehead. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But if they find us first…”

 

Loki sighed, but his smile widened. “Then I give you permission to do… that.” He gestured to the bloody mess of reptile behind them.

 

They packed up the rest of their things and Loki checked the map once more, trying to plot a route that would avoid dragon-infested areas. The problem was that he knew very little about where dragons liked to live. But he knew that he liked shelter, and a bevy of hills to their west-northwest might have that. Thor was so distractedly pleased with his hammer and his sudden skill with it that he probably would’ve assented if Loki said they needed to go jump in the boiling river.

 

And so, with one heart bursting with hope and the other hope tinged with unease, they set out once more through the dark wasteland, dodging geysers and pools of lava and very unstable ground and the fear that maybe, just maybe, Thor was too powerful now for his own good.

 

* * *

 

The map had lied. Or at least stretched the truth to its breaking point. It was morning, and they could see it clearly. The Brimr Hills were not really hills, but broken, plastered, and melted-together chunks of volcanic rock that rose in a desultory assortment of sizes and shapes above the plain. Some had vesicles large enough to stick a finger into and were emitting whitish steam. Others were so dense and impermeable that they looked like metal, and even Thor probably couldn’t break them with his hammer. From the look of it, this was the dumping ground for all the region’s explosive volcanoes.

 

A dragon would certainly feel at home here.

 

That much was clear just from looking, but Loki was not as distracted as he had been at their last camp, as he was innocently walking beside Thor rather than laying like a harlot atop him. This meant that he actually had the presence of mind to reach out with his seidr and check for danger. No dragons, nor any dragon-sized blind spots that would be clear if their hides repelled magic. All Loki saw was Thor, who glowed like the sun, an outright plethora of thermophilic bacteria, and a few more of the same large but harmless rodents they had seen during their trek over here, which they didn’t mind, because they provided ample decent-tasting meat.

 

Night was falling quickly, and it was easy to imagine ghosts emerging from the steam. They tried to keep their voices down as they searched for a spot to make camp; though they knew it was safe, the place seemed somehow sacred, like a graveyard.

 

Thor nudged him as they reached a bend in the makeshift trail between boulders. “Over here,” he whispered, and led them towards a small opening in a particularly opaque stretch of rock that reached at least twenty meters high. Loki wasn’t too keen on spending any more time in caves, but as he had found, this rock was much less unfriendly to seidr, and none but the smallest of dragons could fit though the opening.

 

They both had to crouch to fit inside. Loki expected to see nothing but more black; a claustrophobically small room with only enough room for them to lay.

 

This was anything but that.

 

It shouldn’t even really be called a cave, Loki thought. Cathedral was probably the best name for it.

 

The room was magnificent, made up of several massive chunks of that vesicular rock all sloping up inwards like the inside of a prism. At the apex of the pyramid was a meter-wide opening to the outside where they could see the sky watching them. The rock immediately surrounding the opening was black and shiny, and Loki had a feeling that it would be translucent in the daylight. Set into the smooth ground in the center of the prism was a crystal-clear blue pool. It was impossible to tell its depth, and it was only as large as Loki’s cabin back in Asgard. The steam coming off of it was anything but menacing.

 

Loki got the creeping feeling that this place was not entirely natural. It was too immaculate. But the feeling was quickly extinguished by Thor turning to him and cursing loudly in delighted surprise.

 

He strode forward and fearlessly dipped his hand in the water. “It’s perfect,” he said, either referring to its temperature or to the setting in general.

 

A smile slowly replaced the doubt across Loki’s face. Was this finally enough to convince him that everything, actually, was going splendidly? That he was the luckiest boy in the world, that he was in love, that the Norns wanted the best for him?   
  


Yes, he thought fiercely. He pulled off his shoes and went to join Thor in the spring.


	28. Chapter 28

They had stepped into a dream. This was fantasy, an otherworld, too beautiful to be made from the same material as the ugliness outside. But they were here, and Loki was certain he was awake. He thanked the Norns that the cave was hidden so well, surrounded by the unforgiving landscape with its bloodthirsty creatures. Its remoteness protected it.

 

The spring was still and clear and there were ledges set into its side where they could sit; the water grazed Loki’s shoulders but Thor’s chest rose a few inches out of it. Below where their feet dangled, the water extended deep. The color of the rock containing it shifted from blue to yellow to orange to brightest crimson as it descended into the bowels of the land.

 

Loki had given it but a passing glance before reverting to looking at Thor.

 

He’d left the hammer discarded at the edge of the cave, next to his clothes.  _ Most _ of his clothes. He again kept on the undergarments he had worn when they bathed in the stream outside Nidavellir, as if he wanted to retain some sense of modesty with his brother’s eyes upon him. Loki thought it endearing, and also futile. But he had stripped down to the same so Thor wouldn’t think him too forward.

 

They sat across the pool from one another. Loki stretched his legs out, soaked his black hair, mimicked the actions of one who needed a relaxing bath after a long day. But he was far too alert to be convincing.

 

Night had fallen. The light Loki had conjured at the apex of the ceiling bathed the cave in soft radiance, and he was entranced by the way it played on his brother’s skin. Thor was washing the blood and dragon gore from its surface. It was caked on and layered thick in places, but the skin underneath was unharmed and clear. Some of the filth didn’t seem to want to come off, though, and as much as Loki liked to watch Thor caring for himself, he couldn’t resist the thought of touching him. He swam smoothly across the small pool and sat next to Thor, who looked up at him and smiled.

 

“Be patient, brother,” he said.

 

Loki was grateful that the heat of the spring meant that his face was already flushed. “Patient? I wasn’t doing anything.”

 

Thor splashed him. “I know what you want.”

 

Loki put on a straight face. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

“You can’t lie to me anymore. I see the look in your eyes. You’re no better than a maiden trying to steal a royal heir out of me.”

 

That example was far too specific to be invented, Loki thought. Of course Thor wasn’t a virgin, not looking like he did, not acting like he did. Still, it stung a bit to know that Loki wouldn’t be his first. “Maybe I just wanted to clean the blood and muck from your back. Where you can’t reach.” Loki did want to do this. This, among other things.

 

“Sure,” Thor said with a hint of sarcasm, but turned around.

 

Loki magicked some lavender-smelling soap into his hands and rubbed them over Thor’s back, cleaning them but also pressing his fingertips into the muscles, feeling for that unseen strength hidden inside them that powered Thor to the dragon’s brutal end. They were prodigious, no doubt, but not unspeakably massive. Not capable alone of taking down a creature a thousand times his size.

 

Not unless the hammer was enchanted beyond Loki’s understanding of power. Or Thor himself was brimming with seidr, and it came out through actions rather than through words. And Loki had been the catalyst to strengthen it.

 

Curse his curiosity that made him think of this when he should be seducing Thor. They had plenty of time to talk later.

 

Loki splashed the water up on Thor to wash away the soap, then wrapped his arms around his thick chest, positioning himself behind him like he had in the stream so long ago. Thor relaxed into him, and Loki kissed up his neck, unable to resist. His hair had grown long. Its gold shined even more with the water dripping from it.

 

“You were right,” Loki whisphered. The sound echoed ghostly through the cave. “I do want you.”

 

Thor turned his head and rubbed his cheek against Loki’s lips. “How do you know what you want, Loki?”

 

Loki felt a pang of fear, like this was abject rejection or something. “I-I don’t.”

 

“You just know.”

  
“Yes.”

 

Thor’s tone was flat, but it was a strained flatness. “I have a lot to give.”

 

The fear in Loki’s stomach metamorphosed to desire. He wanted it, he wanted it more than anything in the world. Everything that Thor had, even if it was a lot, even if it was too much. Especially then. 

 

There was nothing he could say that would convince Thor more than swallowing his words and doing what he wanted to do. His hands traveled down Thor’s bare chest, one traversing across to hold him tightly across the waist, and the other descended further still, surpassing the flimsy fabric trying to conceal him. Like he was petting a wild animal, like it was something that could hurt him, he cautiously extended his fingers to touch Thor’s cock; it was still soft and malleable with skin so smooth it was a wonder it could be part of a man so strong and steely as Thor.

 

It didn’t hurt Loki, though, so he wrapped his hand all the way round, and went about taming it.

 

The flesh underneath transformed and hardened under his attention, and Loki could feel his own following suit as if they were twinned, though Thor’s was undoubtedly larger. Thor sighed slowly and tried to kiss Loki once more, to steal his attention, but Loki was preoccupied; his brother’s cock was so different from his own and yet so alike and he wished to discover every detail of it. He inched up its length, felt around its girth, circled a fingertip over the head and nudged inside the hole, which was slippery already. Thor hadn’t been lying. It was a lot to give indeed.

 

Before long he was satisfied with the exploration he had done and Thor was breathing hard. Loki knew that with every one of those ragged breaths, he wanted to beg for Loki to give him more. He needn’t worry about that.

 

This time, Loki let Thor kiss him. And this time, Thor turned around, sliding off the few clothes he was still wearing and picking Loki up off the stone seat to paw his off as well, all without breaking the kiss. It only figured that one so deft as Thor, who could kill beasts without incurring a scratch, could unclothe his brother just as easily.

 

He picked Loki up as easily as if he were a boy and set him on the edge of the pool. The rock was freezing cold under his ass compared to the water, and the sensation confused his nerves into satisfied oblivion. 

 

Thor stopped kissing him and knelt back on the bench, looking at Loki reverently as if he were the most beautiful thing in the world. Loki felt much more awkward than beautiful, but since he saw the same thing back in Thor, it was only fair that he accepted how Thor saw him. At least for now.

 

“Are you alright?” Thor asked. Loki wondered whether his expression had turned so loving as to look pained. Which, he admitted, might be an accurate reflection of how he was feeling.

 

He relaxed into a smile, trying to rid himself of the first-time anxiety. It was Thor. It was his brother, and his brother would never do anything to harm him. It was exactly what they both wanted, and there was no better first time Loki could have.

 

“I’m wonderful,” he said. “And I love you. Not that you need the reminder,” he laughed, “but I want to say that until my tongue dries up and my voice shreds itself to bits.”

 

“That won’t be necessary,” Thor replied seriously. His eyes flicked downwards and back up, like he was trying not to let Loki know where his mind truly was. “And I can think of better things for your mouth to do. Things that require the… the full use of it.”

 

Loki snickered, no longer afraid that the things Thor was speaking of were ones he was altogether unfamiliar with. “Show me what they are, then.”

 

And so he did. He parted Loki’s legs so he could nestle himself between them, and stopped pretending like he wanted to keep looking at Loki’s face. His hungry gaze settled on Loki’s cock, and his hands were hungry too; they smoothed over his inner thighs towards his center and Loki shuddered. His had been the only hands to ever touch himself like that. Would Thor’s feel worse? Rough, calloused, groping him the wrong way, unbeknownst to how Loki liked to be touched? Would they grasp Loki like they grasped his hammer? 

 

Wriggling its way in through his doubts, something inside of Loki bit at him. 

 

If he wanted to be touched how he wanted to be touched, he could do it himself. He was not here to stay within his own boundaries. He was here so that Thor could blow them open.

 

So he spoke his intention into being. 

 

“Don’t be gentle with me.”

 

Thor smiled wide. “I wasn’t going to be.”

 

He grasped Loki’s cock hard and rubbed the shaft up and down, causing Loki to cry out a sharp yelp that reflected around the cave’s facets. His other hand dug into Loki’s lower back hard enough to leave bruises; he was using the leverage to pull himself in until his face was right up against Loki’s cock. 

 

Loki should have known this was coming, but he was also somewhat let down that he couldn’t have tasted Thor’s first.

 

Just Thor’s breath was enough to make him leak shiny precome, and as if Thor were a man dying of thirst, he licked it up, starting from the tip and then moving his tongue around the head, and then wrapping his lips around the whole thing and sucking downwards.

 

Loki supposed that this was the part where people were supposed to throw their heads back in ecstasy, or something, but he couldn’t do that. He could only look Thor in the eyes and finally, finally, stop thinking so damned much, and be lost in feeling and raw sensation and the otherworldly magic of it all.

 

It had been so very long since he had given himself any attention, and this was his first time of anyone  _ else _ giving him attention, so he forgave himself for not lasting very long.

 

“T-Thor, I’m about to-”

 

“Like Hel you are.” He pulled away abruptly. 

 

Loki thought he might come from the thought of Thor denying him what he wanted for alone. But Thor probably wouldn’t let him do that either. He kissed Loki hurriedly and then pulled his legs up so that he was only kept from falling back onto the floor from his own strength and from Thor catching him. He rested a hand behind himself but wished he was as strong as Thor so he could use both to touch him instead.

 

Their cocks briefly touched, and for whatever reason, this reminded Loki of how wrong this was, of the immorality of two boys who shared blood (even if it was only half-blood) acting as though they were lovers. 

 

Of course, this only functioned to turn him on even more.

 

Thor didn’t seem perturbed. He took his own cock and smeared it all over Loki’s legs and belly, like he was marking him, and then angled it downwards to where Loki could take him. Loki shuddered as he felt the tip trailing around his hole and Thor paused.

 

“Erm… Loki, can you...?”

 

“What?” Loki breathed.   
  


“It’s… It’s going to hurt a lot if you don’t make it easier. By, you know, slickening it. It’ll hurt a  _ lot,  _ a lot. A hurt I can’t bear making you feel.” His voice was full of trepidation. For all his aggression, he bristled at the thought of directing it towards Loki.

 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Loki started to say, but Thor’s little laugh made him stop.

 

“It has nothing to do with being tough, Loki. Or wanting all of me. Trust me. You will get it all even with this precaution. Is there a spell, or something, you can use?”

 

Loki wasn’t sure if he wanted to melt at Thor’s kindness to him or lash out at it. But Thor had said to trust him, and so he had to. Slickening spells weren’t something he had needed to use often in his lonely life, but he knew the concept. He wondered whether whatever mages invented these spells so many thousands of years ago had  _ this  _ in mind. They probably did.

 

The spell took effect and his insides were filled with a delightfully cool slippery substance. “Okay. I’m ready.”

 

Thor rubbed his cock around a bit to check, and seemed satisfied that Loki had done what he was told. Instead of pressing it inside, though, he pulled away and touched Loki’s face lovingly. His eyes were sparkling brighter than Loki had ever seen them. He brushed his fingertips over his sharp cheekbone, then down to his mouth. Loki parted his lips unconsciously. 

 

Thor slipped a finger inside and Loki rolled his tongue around it, coating it in his spit and caressing it like it was a cock in his mouth instead. From the way Thor looked, he was getting just as much pleasure from this as if it  _ were _ his cock. 

 

Quickly, he pulled it away and replaced it with his mouth, and Loki kissed him aggressively. He jumped and bit Thor’s lip when he felt Thor’s finger reemerge below his cock. It traveled downwards and Loki shivered; his hole was fluttering anxiously beyond his control but Thor felt around it anyway. It was like all of Loki’s nerves had migrated to that point alone. 

 

Loki bit down harder on his brother’s lower lip, and for the first time in his life, something pushed inside him.

 

He was very grateful that Thor had the good sense to use a single finger first, because just an inch of it felt like so much, and Loki might have to mend his brother’s split lip once this was all over. Thor ignored him and pushed it deeper in, rotating it and feeling Loki’s insides, fighting the tight muscle that tried to refuse him entry. It was a good thing that Thor was stronger than any defense Loki could muster.

 

Once he had one finger in all the way, he moved it around more, making little coaxing motions that sent shivers up Loki’s spine. This had been worth the wait, he was thinking, and though it hurt, he was glad for it since it meant he had something to focus on that wasn’t his leaking cock. Thor pulled his finger out once he was content that Loki had been stretched enough by one, and stuck another one in, not caring to inch them in slowly now. He parted them inside and Loki felt like he was being split apart, but he knew that Thor’s cock would be larger even than this, and he was damned if he wasn’t going to take that.

 

And, if this was the pain of loving one’s brother, he would pray for it a thousandfold.

 

As if Thor could read his mind, he detangled his lips from Loki’s and pulled his fingers out of him, aligning his cock over the stretched hole. This was pivotal; after this, there would be no going back. 

 

Thor did not want to go back. He went forwards, and pushed himself slowly into Loki, and Loki felt as if his world was beginning anew.

 

It was nothing like he’d ever felt, and the sensation multiplied when Thor grasped his cock in his hand and started stroking it in time with his own smooth, slow thrusts into Loki’s ass. Loki could see in his eyes that he wanted nothing more than to go faster, to unleash all of himself, but Loki knew that he could not take that so soon; they had until the sun itself died to do this, and for his first time, Loki was hopelessly happy with the gentleness of this annihilation of himself.

 

Once it was clear that Loki was not going to tell him to stop, Thor increased the pace of his thrusts. Loki felt more of the pain he’d first experienced inching back in, only now it was woven with the sublime pleasure of Thor’s strong hand stroking him. The pressure was becoming so much; he stopped holding himself up with his hand and laid back on the stone, noticing how the cock filling him hit different angles as he moved, each more mystical than the last. Thor was fucking him hard, now, like he had wanted to from the beginning, and Loki was already blissfully close to coming, and he desperately hoped that Thor would let him this time.

 

Thor must have been close, too. He grasped Loki’s ankle hard with the hand that wasn’t pulling him off, and shoved his legs up and his hips backward. Somehow this meant that Thor’s cock was hitting a yet-undiscovered place inside of him that felt even more unspeakable - he was not going to last much longer and neither was Thor.

 

With an animalistic cry Loki came, thick and white, onto his own chest; he saw stars and snow beneath his eyelids and blue, the endless blue of endless summer days and fire burning hot and bright. He heard Thor’s grunts growing louder and felt the hand that had been on his cock probing upwards, looking for something; it found the white substance drying on Loki’s chest and smeared it around.

 

Loki opened his eyes and looked down. Thor’s control had slipped. He held up his hand, covered in Loki’s come, and lifted it to his mouth.

  
If Loki had been physically capable of coming again, he would have. He supposed Thor’s orgasm would have to do. 

 

With a sound like stone splitting apart, Thor came, releasing himself deep in Loki’s ass. It filled him with warmth, trickling out like a hot bath when Thor slowly pulled his cock out.

 

He rested back in the water, exhausted, and pulled Loki down in with him. Loki had forgotten to blink. The clear water clouded over with their mingling seed. 

 

It mirrored the sky Loki could see through the epicenter of the prismatic cave. A few snowflakes found their way through the opening and landed upon their heads. Loki felt utterly spent, and the most certain of anything he’d ever been in his life that this was the perfect way for this to have transpired.

 

He took Thor’s hand in his own and held it like the absence of his touch had been an amputation of sorts. Thor looked significantly more tired than he had after he’d slayed the dragon. Loki decided to be very proud of that. He had been the greater beast to slay.

 

“Brother,” Loki said plainly.

 

Thor’s eyes were still closed, but the corners of his lips slowly upturned. “Brother,” he echoed.

 

* * *

 

They hadn’t left the cave yet. They had waited precisely the amount of time it took for both of them to have the ability to get hard again, and then they’d fucked again, and this cycle repeated itself so many times that Loki had lost count of them. It was hedonistic, he knew, but they were young, and selfish, and the world could wait.

 

Neither did any of the subsequent times produce diminishing returns. Each fuck was groundbreaking, and the ground now must’ve been shattered into bits. And this was from mundane sex alone. Loki hadn’t dared to bring seidr into it yet, though he had distinct plans to.

 

It was true, though, that the amount of time it took between sessions was increasing. Which was better, probably, because it gave them a chance to eat something, drink fresh water, and put into words the depth of their love.

 

Loki wasn’t afraid to do that anymore. There was nothing that could ruin it. And it was an amusing challenge to try and invent phrases that described what he felt. Loki had always considered himself an accomplished wordsmith, but nothing he’d come up with so far had felt right.

 

He had time, though, so he gave up for the time being. 

 

Thor lay like a statue over the smooth ground. They had not bothered to clothe themselves since they’d arrived. Loki sat cross-legged a few feet away from him, playing with a chunk of the slightly-translucent stone that had fallen from the ceiling.

 

“Loki?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Do you have any theories as to how Sindri made my hammer do… what it does?” He sounded like he’d been waiting to ask this question for days.

 

Fortunately, Loki had been just as prepared to answer it. “Well, do you remember what I told you in the boat before we got to Muspelheim?” Thor nodded. “At first, I thought it was a clever spell he’d imbued it with. And that could still be the case. But I’m beginning to think that it wasn’t his work at all.”

 

Thor’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

 

“I don’t think Sindri intended that hammer to do what it does. I think he made a very strong and dense weapon, and that’s all.” 

 

“So who made it… so much more than that?”

 

Loki tossed the chunk of rock he’d been playing with into the pool. “You did.”

 

“How?” Thor sat up.

 

“You have much more of an effect on things than you think you do.”

 

“That’s pleasingly vague.”

 

Loki shrugged. “You do. You’re like the sun, Thor. You make things grow, you make them stronger. I think you wanted that hammer so badly that you put a little of yourself into it, even though you didn’t forge it.”

 

Thor sat back on his hands, contemplating Loki’s words. He looked beautiful when he did that. And then, as though he needed to ensure it still worked, he straightened up and held out his hand. The hammer flew into it as it always had. He studied it for a moment and then set it back down.

 

“I believe you.”

 

“It’s the most likely thing I can think of,” Loki said. “Although you do understand what this means.”

 

“That I’ve made you grow, too? That I’ve put some of myself into you?” Thor said it like it was a joke, but not like he didn’t want an answer.

 

“Well, yes,” Loki answered. “That much I’ve known from the very beginning. But it’s not just that, Thor. Spells don’t make themselves, it’s not possible. Even implicitly intentioned spells. They have to have something to draw from. A reservoir. Some of us have that, in varying sizes, and some of us don’t. Mine is rather large, both naturally and because I’ve put work into expanding it. You told me you had no power. You were entirely mortal, entirely mundane. I think it’s very clear now that you were wrong.”

 

Thor’s head tipped slightly to the side. Like he was fighting against Loki’s argument, though he knew it was true.

 

“You know I’m right, Thor. Normal boys don’t go flipping over dragons and accidentally enchanting their weapons.”

 

“How… how did this happen?”

 

“Isn’t your mother a light-elf? She has the innate ability. It would be more surprising if she hadn’t passed it to you.”

 

“Yes, Loki, but… how did it take this long? How didn’t I know from the start?” 

 

Loki smiled. Thor always liked to pretend he didn’t know things. “You already know this, Thor. You’ve strengthened me, yes. I couldn’t have done the same thing back to you if there was nothing to multiply it with. Have you considered that what you needed wasn’t the capability, but the purpose?”

 

Thor’s face broke out into a smile and he crawled over to kiss Loki. Just a quick one, and Loki laughed. “What? I don’t think I’m quite ready for that again.”

 

Thor shook his head. “I’m not, either. I’m just glad. I’m glad that you could be that purpose.”

 

“I am too.”

 

* * *

 

It was with a begrudging sigh that they finally packed up to leave the cave. Loki’s ass was sore and none of his spells seemed to make it any better. They promised each other that they’d make up for it at the next stopping place, dragon-permitting.

 

It was morning, and it seemed like the sun might finally come out today. The light was filtering in through the prism and it illuminated the walls with a rainbow of muted colors.

 

They bid the pool goodbye. They would come back to it someday. Maybe, by then, it would have resumed its natural clarity that they had slightly ruined.

 

Thor was draining a waterskin into his open mouth, and they were wrapped tightly in warm layers to insulate themselves. They had grown thin-skinned and soft in this place and the cold outside was nothing to sniff at. Loki dragged his hands over the stone walls, imbuing his fingertips with a muscle memory. He wanted to feel it within him as they traveled towards the harshness of Jotunheim.

 

Something stuck out. A slight indentation in the wall. Loki paused and felt it once more, astonished.

 

“What is it?” Thor asked.

 

“I’m not sure.” Loki whispered a quick brightening spell, revealing the wall in detail their eyes had been too weak to see in the half-light. Not that they’d been paying it much mind, anyway.

 

Laid out before them were drawings of some sort. At first, looking closely, Loki thought they might be natural, made by worms or earthquake fissures, but he stepped back and increased the spell’s power to spread over the entire cave. The indentations were massive and surrounded them with unmistakable pictures. Bipedal creatures fighting and fleeing from finger-painted dragons. Craggy mountains rising from the ground and blasting apart in violent explosions. Buildings. Towns. Society.

 

Loki’s stomach twisted.  _ This  _ was not natural.

 

Thor ran his finger across one of the indentations. There was still a tiny vestige of paint on it. He looked at Loki, horrified.

 

“What happened to them?” he asked.

 

Loki truly didn’t know. This was not in any of his history books. None of his vast knowledge suggested that Muspelheim had ever been inhabited. “I… I don’t know. I had no idea.”

 

“Do you think they were… killed by a volcano, or something?”

 

“I don’t know,” Loki admitted. “It seems like they were pretty adept at living around here.”

 

“Then what was it?” 

 

Loki didn’t answer, and he didn’t think Thor was expecting him to. It all fit now, why the cave was so perfect and protected from the elements. It had probably been some sort of ritual site. Thousands and thousands of years ago.

 

The home they had taken the past few days suddenly felt haunted. “Come on. I think we ought to go.”

 

Thor nodded quickly and followed him out. Loki wanted to be gone. Had they tainted a sacred place, or had it tainted them?


	29. interlude vii

The route to Muspelheim was a muddy, dull one. The caravan was lead by the best remaining hundred soldiers Freyja could scrounge up from the struggling war effort; behind them were a few mages with varying, but altogether low, degrees of skill, two cooks, several handmaidens, a youthful captain, and finally, Freyja herself, a winged crown on her brow and freshly made golden armor shielding her dark skin. She rode atop a blindingly white horse. The rest marched, for horses were in short supply these days.

 

Odin was left at home, still asleep.

 

It wasn’t far to Muspelheim, but it was early spring in Asgard, and on the days where it didn’t snow, the ice all melted in the strengthening sun and turned the road to muck. Worse, they would have to travel through the Jotun blockade before they could reach the harsh mountains of Muspelheim and get a decent view of the valley below. But there was nothing that could stop a mother scorned, not even a little ice.

 

Freyja had a plan to get them through it, one that only worked given the small scale of their makeshift army. A plan to surround the cavalcade with a moving ring of fire that would prove deadly to any Jotuns stupid enough to come near it. With her own strength and that of the magicians she’d brought, they could break the line safely. So she hoped.

 

At least she was quite positive that her son was indeed in the fire-realm. She trusted her advisors and researchers, and furthermore, she had sent a raven. Without Odin around, she could not truly communicate with them, but she sent one anyway, and when it came back, it had the unmistakable magical mark of Thor on it.

 

So they made plans to leave at once. She had decided against merely sending a scouting party to intercept them. It was unwise to trust others these days, even those pledged in her service. So she bore the muddy road, trying to obscure the worry in her face with righteous anger.

 

* * *

 

Freyja turned away and rested her tired eyes. They had lost men. At least fifty, by the captain’s count. Normally, she would at least feign regret. But this was worth it to find Thor.

 

Her plan had mostly worked. The fire kept out the frost-giants, at first. What she had not expected (though she had feared it) was just how much she and the other mages would tire surrounded by the dark and foreign magic of Jotunheim. It was fundamentally opposed to them, and certainly driven very angry by their flames. It fought back as if the ice had a mind of its own.

 

So the circle had grown smaller and smaller, and they had to make some sacrifices.

 

It meant little now, and it was unavoidable. To try and save all of them would’ve instead meant the demise of the entire caravan, including Freyja herself. She couldn’t have that. Who, then, would save Thor?

 

(Who would save the rest of them?)   
  


Freyja was not one to doubt herself. But now that she had seen firsthand the threat of this eternal war, she was beginning to worry.

 

_ Beginning _ might’ve been a bit of an exaggeration, but she was always prone to understatement, too.

 

Muspelheim was a desolate place, or so she’d been told. They were camped at a high mountain pass within its borders for the night, and possibly indefinitely. Behind them, the narrow strip of Jotunheim was bathed in a thick and impenetrable cloud, and on their other side, the valley was similarly shrouded in mist and foul-smelling smoke. It made her feel rather exposed. Far from the fire-realm feeling desolate, it felt alive. It was very easy to imagine creatures lurking in the gloom.

 

From this vantage point, she would be able to see most of the realm, if the wind would only clear the fog.

 

She needed it to. Because her energy was so sapped now that she wouldn’t be able to feel Thor if he stood right in front of her.

 

This was a cruel trip, but it was her duty. If waiting and watching was all she could do, then she would wait. Wait, and pray.


	30. Chapter 30

Outside the cave, the landscape had changed. The stone graveyard had seemingly woken up, grown sentient, and started reproducing in the time they’d been away. The smoke was thicker than before. Some of the chunks of volcanic rock still glowed slightly, fresh from the spurting volcanoes. Loki hadn’t the faintest idea when it had happened, though he had a feeling it had been while their senses were otherwise occupied.

 

The Odinsons walked slowly and cautiously through the veritable minefield of cooling lava. Thor held his hammer slightly raised, as if the rocks themselves would attack them. Nothing of that sort happened, of course. In fact, it seemed more like a path had been cleared for them. It amplified the eeriness of the landscape.

 

So Loki stayed close to his brother. Not that he wouldn’t have done that anyway.

 

“Thor,” he said. “This doesn’t seem quite right to me.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“It feels almost… supernatural.” Loki no longer feared sounding silly to his brother.

 

Thor looked back at him and smiled. “Isn’t everything you do supernatural?”

 

“I suppose. Are you suggesting I had a hand in this?”

 

Thor shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve affected more than you know.”

 

The words made Loki glow with pride. “In that case, you probably helped.”

 

“I certainly hope so.”

 

The mystery of the eruptions soon faded from Loki’s mind, replaced by the one from back in the cave. Somebody had lived here once. And with the constant geological destruction all around, it would be impossible to guess when they had disappeared, since the cave they’d just left was the only surviving evidence. That they knew of. Loki was not about to go searching out for more of it.

 

It was disturbing that neither of them had heard of this civilization before. Loki, with all of his memorized books, and Thor with all of his boring history lessons about the realms he would one day rule. In no way was this a result of negligence or forgetfulness on their part. Somebody had tried to hide something, and they had done a very good job.

 

There was really only one person that somebody could be.

 

Loki did not dare speak of his suspicions to Thor. Thor had his own problems with Odin, but Loki knew that some deeply-held measure of loyalty would complicate his analysis of the situation. Love, even sleeping love, clouded minds.

 

Thankfully, they had other things to talk about, so Loki packed his thoughts away neatly and returned to doing the thing he wanted to do most, which was doting on his big brother as they decided how long they could possibly walk before stopping to kiss once more.

 

Neither did the dragons bother them anymore; the apex predators were not used to one of their own being slaughtered in cold blood. Leave it to Thor to make a thunder of dragons fear for their lives. 

 

If anything, it would have been a boring walk, if not for their beating desire for each other. But after they had (somehow) made it a few miles, Thor became quiet and distant, and Loki didn’t think it was merely due to hunger. Of either sort. 

 

He carefully avoided a particularly sickly patch of grey mud and looked at Thor. “Are you alright?”

 

“Yes. Just thinking.”

 

“About what?”

 

“Something had been nagging at me, and I couldn’t figure out what it was.” Loki braced for the worst. “I think… as weird as this sounds, I think I miss Vali.”

 

Loki coughed a little from trying to laugh in relief and getting a large gulp of sulfuric air instead. Then, that relief was replaced by an ugly sinking feeling. Because he had deeply and entirely forgotten. One of his first true acts of love for Thor, and he had forgotten as soon as the dog had become inconvenient for him.

 

He desperately wanted to lie about it, but that would only upset Thor more. “Oh, Thor… I’m so sorry,” he confessed, overloud, looking down so he wouldn’t have to see the disappointment in Thor’s face. “I forgot. I feel terrible.”

 

Thor put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Loki found his expression unreadable - eyebrows raised, a faint smile on his lips, but heavy sadness in his eyes. “It’s fine. You’ve been through a lot.”

 

“ _ We’ve _ been through a lot.”

 

“Yes. But it’s different for you. I-I know I can’t really understand.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Loki knew this was not only about Vali, but he feared what Thor had figured out about him.

 

Thor looked away defensively. “I don’t know. I guess, now that we’re so close to Jotunheim, I’ve been thinking more about how unfair it is. That it is on us to fix this problem. It’s a lot to stomach.”

 

Never before had Loki come so close to telling his brother the truth. That this was all his fault in the first place, so there was nobody better to end it.

 

But his love for Thor - no, his  _ need _ for Thor’s love - outweighed anything else. Certainly the truth. This was a lie he would take to his grave, if he had to. If he  _ could. _

 

Those chances were admittedly low.

 

At this point, it was far easier to lie than to reveal more than he had already. “Yes. You’re right. I suppose, in trying to put that from my mind, I forgot a few other things, too.”

 

“I don’t blame you for it.”

 

“I hope not,” Loki admitted. “Since you’ve been ample distraction.” He pulled Thor into yet another kiss so he wouldn’t have to say anything more.

 

Thor pulled away, but not too quickly. “I’m glad I could be that. While I still can.” The wind picked up and Thor wrapped the furs around himself tighter. 

 

Loki felt fine. “What makes you think you’ll ever have to stop?” he asked cautiously.

 

“Nothing,” Thor answered quickly. “Well, not nothing. I have to keep reminding myself of the possibility of at least one of us not making it out of this alive. So I don’t take you… us… for granted.”

 

Loki started walking again; restlessness was pulling at his bones. “That’s not going to happen.” His voice sounded much more convincing than he felt.

 

“I appreciate your confidence. And I share it, I swear.” Loki knew that this was not a lie. “I just need you to know how much you have torn me in two. My sense of duty is strained beyond measure. You have fractured it beyond repair, Loki. I hope you know that you could shatter it whenever you wanted to.”

 

Loki said nothing.

 

“If you asked me to abandon this mission, I would follow you wherever you went. And if you told me you didn’t love me, that you no longer wanted my company, then I would march, unresting, to Jotunheim and slaughter every frost-giant I could find in your name.”

 

This time, Loki knew that he could not stay silent. He could not allow Thor to get the wrong idea. “I have little sense of duty. Probably none. I could not leave you no matter what you said to me.” He swallowed. “My only allegiance is to you.”

 

He was unsure whether that was truth or lie. He conjured Vali once more. They walked with new purpose.

 

* * *

 

Thankfully, as the darkness settled on Muspelheim, it faded from their conversations. They had said what needed to be said, and with the weights suspended over their chests for now, they could go back to the ease and pleasure of two honeymooning lovers. The realm had become a safe place. One where the danger was from the land itself, not any jealous or spiteful others, and they could be united against its many assaults. Loki was just as adept at shielding them from the varied geological activities as Thor was at shattering the rocks that rained down on them with his unbreakable hammer. They were a team.

 

Even as they slept, Loki kept a protective bubble around them. Normally, it would be invisible and unassuming. But every time they fucked within its confines, which was often, its surface shimmered happily.

 

Thor’s theory about them affecting the volcanoes had also been instilled merit. The fires in the soil, the bubbling of lava and the hot water pools, even the explosive flows from the mountains all burned hotter and stronger when their bodies unified in that way. It made Loki proud to see how deeply their love spread. He hoped that that pride didn’t mean he was growing soft.

 

It wasn’t surprising that he felt this way considering the fact that his fear had no hold on them here. It was almost like he was back in the golden birch forests of Asgard, young again, before he knew what was wrong with the world and why, playing peacefully and seeing the beauty all around him. Other than the curse of knowledge, what differences had sprouted now were all good ones, because he was no longer alone. They didn’t need to keep their voices down; they could stop whenever they liked for as long as they liked. They were the kings of this world for as long as they were within its borders.

 

That would not be for much longer, however. Muspelheim was narrow. They could not warrant traveling south to see where the lava hit the sea and exploded into glittery steam, or hike up the mountains to gaze into the calderas while Loki magically shielded them from the skin-melting heat. After spending so long in the cave, it was irresponsible for them to dally much longer.

 

For these reasons, Loki should not have been shocked when they were within a day’s distance of Jotunheim after only a week. Apparently his faith in the unlikely was stronger than he thought.

 

The valley they’d been traveling through ended abruptly in a thick white cloud a half-mile in front of them. Foreboding eddies spun within it, now visible since they were so close. One might imagine icy blue eyes watching from within its depths. The cold was growing inescapable.

 

This was not much of a worry for Loki, who had been appreciating the icy breezes as a respite from Thor’s glowing warmth. Thor, obviously, did not like it so much.

 

They had stopped for the evening one final time. It was early and Loki thought the sun had only just disappeared under the high mountains, but it was difficult to tell with the little light it had been providing in the first place. The camp was a sorry place. There was no sign of the land ever having supported plant life; only gravel and ash lived here.

 

They wanted to make the most of this final peaceful night together, and alone, for maybe a very long time. Thor sat heavily on a whitewashed boulder, shivering but trying to hide it. Beside him, Vali sat calmly, watching Loki.

 

Loki was building a fire for Thor’s sake, arranging rocks into a pit that would contain his spell. “It’s only going to get worse, you know,” he warned, though his tone was intentionally good-natured.

 

“Yes. But I’ll have you to help with that.” His attempts at sounding cheerful were impotent; the quivering in his voice gave him away.

 

“What makes you think I’ll help?” Loki teased.

 

“Well, if you don’t,” Thor said, “I’ll freeze to death, and you won’t be able to sit on my cock anymore.”

 

Loki tried not to smile. “That would be a terrible fate.” He tried to keep his tone sarcastic, but seeing as he was telling the truth, it didn’t come across how he’d wanted it to.

 

“Speaking of which…”

 

“Speaking of which, what?”

 

Thor left his place on the boulder and sat by the fire that was now roaring happily. He warmed his hands and eyed Loki playfully. “I’m still cold, brother. I think I need you to warm me up.”

 

“That’s what the fire is for. Just wait, it’ll help.”

 

Thor began stripping off his clothes, trying not to laugh. “I don’t think it’s enough. I really think I need your help.”

 

Seeing Thor bared like this, Loki could no longer continue to play coy. Plus, this could be their last chance for a while to do this sort of thing. If not ever, though he wouldn’t dare remind Thor of that.

 

“I suppose I could do… something.” He clambered over to Thor and sat facing him in his lap, taking his face in his hands and pressing their lips together rather desperately. The fire was very hot on his back.

 

It was hard to focus on that, though, with Thor sticking his tongue down his throat and unbuttoning his shirt. Like creeping vines, his hands snuck over the pale skin of Loki’s chest, making him shiver despite the wretched heat.

 

He rolled off Thor and pulled off his pants hurriedly; the air on his skin was like a soothing balm. He spread his legs and waited for Thor to position himself between them. 

 

But there was a shadow in Thor’s face. Roughly, he flipped Loki onto his front. This was new.

 

The oily furs they’d surrounded the fire with tickled his face and he waited, mind blank, for whatever Thor was planning to do to him.

 

He heard a contented sigh from behind. “What?” he asked breathlessly.

 

“Somehow,” Thor mused, “you are just as beautiful from the back as you are from the front.”

 

Loki smiled to himself. “Is this what you’ve been imagining the whole time you’ve been walking behind me?”

 

“Yes. You don’t even know for how long.”

 

Loki left it at that, letting his mind wander back through the long months of crossing the plains and mountains, Thor behind him the whole way. So that decision had not only been because Loki had a better sense of where they were going. He couldn’t say he was offended, though.

 

Thor smoothed his hands up Loki’s thighs and nudged them apart. He felt very exposed like this, very vulnerable, but Thor would never let him come to harm, nor do anything he wouldn’t want. He tried to relax.

 

Two strong thumbs spread apart either side of his ass and Loki prepared for Thor to stick one in, but the intrusion never came. Instead, a very different sensation made him jump.

 

It was a momentary surprise, however, and soon after the warm wet texture of Thor’s tongue around his hole lulled him into a state of blissful relaxation, scattered with little bouts of excess pleasure when it reached his center, and when Thor hit him just hard enough to sting. That was… not new. He had asked for it after the first time, and Thor had happily acquiesced.

 

Yet Loki was determined not to forget that this was not all for his singular satisfaction. He could feel Thor’s breath panting against him, too, and each time he moaned the vibrations sent a shiver up Loki’s spine. If he looked back, he knew Thor would be up on all fours, ass pointing up, exposed to the clouds, stroking himself off at the depraved thought of doing this to his own brother.

 

Loki only hoped he wouldn’t come before he had the chance to slip it inside of him. At this rate, he wouldn’t even need the lubrication spell, for Thor’s mouth was doing the job for him.

 

As if Thor had read his mind, he gave Loki a final smack with his calloused hand and stopped licking him. Loki was suddenly very aware of how his own cock couldn’t be serviced in this position. Again, Thor must’ve been thinking the same, since he grabbed Loki’s hips and pulled them up so that his knees and elbows were the only parts of him still on the ground.

 

Thor leaned forward, took a handful of shining black hair, pulled Loki’s head back roughly, and stuffed himself inside his ass quickly, too quickly, thrusting harder than he ever had before, and Loki had no choice but to cry out at the unexpected pain of it and the hand pulling hard at his scalp. It was a pain he welcomed, a pain he deserved, and Thor knew this, because he did not stop.

 

(Loki’s crime, of course, being lying, and keeping the lie up for the indefinite future, without any remorse at all.)

 

And, as he was already in this state of decided non-remorse, he figured he was feeling naughty enough to take himself in hand and come as quickly as he could. In retaliation, Thor let go of his hair and smacked Loki again, but it was gentler this time, and he grabbed onto his ass for leverage, pushing as deep inside him as he could with each intrusion. Loki let his head press back down into the earth but still he saw stars. He rubbed himself a few more times, slowly, savoring the clash of sensations. And then, all the stars imploded.

 

It was over so soon. Thor hadn’t come yet, though, and pulled out of him, and Loki ousted the last of the air still in his lungs. He turned back to look at Thor, who had the most beautiful expression on his face, and decided that he needed to taste what was about to shoot out of his brother.

 

He took Thor’s cock between his lips and Thor grabbed his hair again and started thrusting into his mouth, hitting the back of his throat and almost making him gag, but it, too, was over quickly, and he came all across Loki’s tongue. Loki swallowed most of it, but some dribbled out over his lips, trickling down his chin like an especially juicy peach.

 

He looked up at Thor, drunk on what had come from his hallowed body. The clouds were clearing above him, as quickly as if some god much greater than them had blown their icy breath across the valley.

 

Thor smiled mischievously and picked his brother up off the ground, kissing him as he ran his fingers through his hair. Loki couldn’t find it within himself to pull away, and the taste of Thor’s seed swirled between their sated tongues.

 

And sated Loki was. If he would ever be ready for Jotunheim, he was now.

 

Finally, the cold wind became too much for Thor, and Loki couldn’t wish away his shivering. It was time for them to return to reality. “Put some clothes on, brother,” he muttered into Thor’s mouth.

 

“Aye,” Thor replied sleepily. Vali, it seemed, was already asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly by the fire.

 

Loki needed no such comfort, but began dressing anyway, not wishing to put any query in Thor’s mind as to why he was so immune to the cold’s bite. His eyes kept being drawn west. It seemed that the wind abruptly stopped at the border. The snowclouds hovering threateningly over Jotunheim were too strong for Muspelheim’s god.

 

But here, they were safe. Once Thor was sufficiently bundled up, Loki couldn’t bear to stay away from him, like he needed to spend every waking moment kissing him, like only the shine of the stars above could distract him from his brother’s beauty. Like he was avoiding the unavoidable.

 

But the stars were neutral, the stars didn’t judge. Thor was gazing at them, too. Their constellations were inscrutable. 

 

“I forgot how much comfort they give me. Even if they’re not in the same places as they are at home,” Thor said wistfully.

 

“We’ll see them again someday. Maybe it is only Jotunheim’s perimeter that is obscured from their light.” Hope always sounded odd in Loki’s voice, but his faith was not an empty one.

 

“Couldn’t you clear the clouds for me if I wanted to see them?”

 

A confused storm emotions entered Loki’s stomach. “I… yes. I would try.”

 

Something caught Loki’s eye out in the distance. At first, he thought it was an errant tear that had leaked, betraying his emotions, causing things to sparkle that emitted no light of their own. But he rubbed the salt from his eyes, and still it was there.

 

He didn’t have a chance to squint at it, because Thor pulled him into another kiss, no doubt a thanks for Loki’s affectionate response. Loki couldn’t resist humoring him, but the light kept intruding its way back into his mind, and he broke it off before Thor was ready.

 

“Thor,” he whispered, as if they were being listened in on, “what do you think that is?” He pointed towards the distant mountain with its reddish pinprick of light.

 

“I don’t know. Another star?”

 

“I don’t think so. See, you can see the tip of the mountain above it.”

 

Thor frowned. “Can you find out what it is? Will your magic stretch that far?”

 

“Maybe if you help. Just… hold my hands, will you? I’m going to close my eyes and focus.” 

 

Thor did as he was told, and Loki did, too, reaching past the brightly glowing beast that was Vali and over the barren rockfields towards the snowy mountains. He felt the energy from Thor flowing through him, and at first, it was difficult to maintain his focus on figuring out what the potential threat was, because all he wanted to do was imagine that energy was in his cock instead, filling his ass, making him come in earth-ending fashion, and-

 

He shook himself. This was no time for distractions.

 

Thor squeezed his hand, and an extra jolt coursed through Loki out up the steep ridges.

 

Loki’s eyes thundered open like he’d been stabbed. There was somebody there.  _ Many _ somebodies.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeated, the swear being the only thing his lips would form. 

 

“What?”

 

“W-we’re not alone. There’s people up there. At least one of them can do magic.” The words came out very fast, but he still felt like he was thinking too slow for the flow of time. He went to work on shielding them from being seen by occult means, but he was so upset now that he didn’t think it would be very effective.

 

Because there was only one person that magic user could be. 

 

Thor began to realize just how afraid Loki was, and he instinctively summoned his hammer from where he’d left it discarded by the fire. “Who?” he urged.

 

Loki paused for a moment, deciding whether to lie, or say he didn’t know.

 

“It’s your mother.”

 

The look of horror on Thor’s face finally matched that on Loki’s. He shook his head in futile disbelief. “She- she’s an elf, Loki. She  _ saw us. _ ”

 

Just as Thor’s fear had grown, Loki’s had condensed itself into nothingness, leaving him numb. His voice was steady and quiet. “Do you want to go home, Thor?”

 

“No!” he shouted, loud enough to echo all the way up to where Freyja and her army were camped. “How could you say that? Do you doubt my love  _ that  _ much?”

 

“It was just a question.”

 

He grew even more indignant. “It’s the  _ wrong _ question, Loki. We just spoke of this, did we not? I would never.. could never…”

 

“Choose your own mother over me? The woman that raised you? That loved you for far longer than I have?”

 

Thor looked like he was about to cry. “Why are you doing this, Loki? Why? Don’t you want me to stay with you?”

 

“Of course,” Loki replied, but there was something odd within him, an intrusive seed of doubt, one that said,  _ wouldn’t this be easier if Thor was home once more, and safe, and you kept him out of danger?  _ __   
  


But it was only one seed. He could choose not to water it. Thor would never let him go on alone. And anyway, how could he speak to his mother as if nothing was amiss after she had seen him with his own brother?

 

Loki squeezed his eyes shut and shook himself of the darkness. “I’m sorry, Thor,” he struggled to get out. “I don’t know what happened. I wasn’t myself for a moment. Of course I want you with me. Please don’t go back to her.”

 

“Loki,” he said gently, and without shame, “I… I lied before. I wouldn’t have left you even if you did want me to. I’d follow you. I haven’t forgotten what it was like the last time we were apart.”

 

“Mm,” Loki hummed. “Then we’d better go. Now, before they come down and take us.” They probably had several hours before Freyja would actually reach them. But he could not take that chance. Because, if it did come to a confrontation, he did not doubt Freyja’s motivation to kill him.

 

Thor assented, they gathered their things, and then, they left to find that place from which they might never return.

 


	31. Chapter 31

It was a quiet thing, to leave. Not even a decision; an inevitability. The turmoil of Thor’s supposed choice was illusory.

 

The conditions in Jotunheim were even worse than when Loki had to rescue his brother from the blockade north of Vanaheim. The wind was stronger, the air colder, the ice crystals blowing against their exposed faces stung like broken glass.

 

Incidentally, they had stopped but a few feet inside the realm.

 

“Are you going to be alright?” asked Loki. He already knew the answer. Even  _ he  _ was uncomfortable, and he bore the blood of this harsh place.

 

He could barely see Thor’s face even from a few feet away. “I’m strong, Loki,” he said, but he didn’t sound it.

 

“I know that.”

 

“But I’m not this strong,” he added sheepishly. “I don’t know if I’d make it more than an hour here if you can’t protect me.”

 

That command… to  _ protect _ … warmed Loki even with the conditions around him. “Of course I will. Give me a moment.”

 

“I’d prefer if you hurry. I would bet my mother is waiting just outside for our retreat. She won’t follow us in, but…” He trailed off, as if he didn’t know what Freyja was capable of anymore. 

 

Loki had more pressing matters than determining how well Thor really knew his parents. He devised a spell to heat them both using the energy that flowed back and forth between each other. It simply amplified what they already had and transformed it into heat. As he spoke the words into being, Thor relaxed.

 

“Thank you, brother.”

 

“Thank  _ you _ . You’re helping power it.”

 

“Good. I couldn’t have you tiring yourself out too much for me. Not when we have other things to do.” He curled his arm around Loki’s waist suggestively. Loki noticed that his other hand grasped his hammer more tightly than before.

 

Loki frowned slightly. “I don’t think we’ll have time to do that. And I don’t think it would be safe.”

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Thor said, though the dismissal was good-natured and not cruel. “We’re going to be attacked Loki. Probably a lot. I can’t kill them all myself.”

 

Loki’s frown deepened. He doubted Thor’s words. Actually, he knew that they were false. “Right. We’d better get a move on.”

 

“Where to?”

 

“West. I’m going to enchant Vali to know the way. He doesn’t rely on his eyes, and the snow won’t bother him. We can follow.” Loki would’ve been perfectly capable of doing that himself, but he knew Thor found comfort in Vali; moreover, he found comfort in seeing the physical signs of magic rather than having it stir mysteriously within Loki alone.

 

Thor pulled him into one more kiss, and they began trudging forward. Vali’s large, furry paws helped him stay afloat on the sea of white, but Thor and Loki had no such adaptation, and Thor especially kept breaking through the ice-encrusted snow. Loki was sure it annoyed him, but he couldn’t help but laugh after the tenth time. He then conjured some snowshoes for each of them. They were unattractive but functional.

 

Even with them, though, it was slow going. Without Loki’s spell, they would have frozen far earlier than the hour Thor had guessed. With it, it was as if they were back in his firelit cabin, spread out beneath his downy blankets, safe. 

 

He cursed the fact that they were anything but safe. He tried to make the most of it, though, by pretending the spell needed their kisses to work properly. Thor, of course, humored him.

 

* * *

 

It was worrying that, despite the snowstorm blocking out any view of the darkening sky, Loki could feel night coming. He asked Thor, and he said he sensed no such thing.

 

By Loki’s guess, it was past dusk. This would be the time they would normally stop for the night, eat something, probably make love once more, and then sleep soundly until the sun coming up stained the earth pink. None of that would be possible here.

 

They would still need to stop and sleep, as much as it scared Loki to. So, when they had walked sufficiently far (a few miles, at the most, so it seemed) Loki told his brother it was time to stop for the day. Thor was not disappointed in this, though they both expressed disappointment that this night would not be soothed by the presence of a campfire.

 

But they had each other, so they fell asleep quickly and softly. Vali served as lookout.

 

A good one, too. Loki awoke, an hour later at most, to the sharp sounds of his barking. He sprung up, waking Thor and squinting into the storm. The wind had calmed somewhat, and through the heavy snowflakes falling all around, he could almost make out shapes. Thor rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked at Loki with tempered fear. His hammer shot quickly up into his outstretched hand.

 

The shapes became corporeal. Two giants, twice as tall as Loki, emerged.

 

“Wait,” Loki whispered to his brother. If he knew Thor, he wanted to attack more than anything else. But something stopped Loki. The giants walked towards them cautiously; Thor and Loki were not helpless prey.

 

The giants held wicked-looking swords of black-flecked ice at their sides. The snow suddenly stopped. Their faces were as sharp as their weapons, with ridges and horns marring their bluish skin. One of them stepped forward, close enough to touch.

 

“I am Mjolnir, and I am here to escort you to Laufey, Loki L-”

 

His words were cut off by Thor slamming his hammer directly through the giant’s skull. It shattered like glass, peppering Thor’s reddened skin, but Thor was not perturbed; he killed the other one just as easily. They fell to the ground like timber. The shards of their bodies sunk into the snow like mercury dropped into water.

 

Loki was not breathing.  _ Loki Laufeyson _ , the giant was about to say. 

 

He was very grateful Thor disobeyed him. Still, a sinking feeling washed over him; Thor was beaming. Not at Loki, but at his hammer.

 

His voice was excited and his words swift. “My first Jotun. Slayed as easily as if I were a child training on a punching bag. I was wrong about needing your help.”

 

“Mm.” 

 

“I’ve been thinking, Loki, this hammer is worthy of a name. I think it’s only fitting that it takes the name of the first Jotun I’ve killed.”

 

Loki swallowed. “I think that’s very wise of you. And very appropriate.” 

 

“Mjolnir. I like it.” He planted a kiss on Loki’s cheek. Then, he whispered the name over the hammer, like a private prayer. It seemed to glitter in response. “I hope I can sleep with all of this excitement. I can’t thank you enough for having Vali be our lookout. Between him and I and your spell of warmth, Jotunheim will be no match for us.”

 

“No. Nor Laufey.” It gave Loki a twisted thrill to picture Thor slaying his father as easily as these lowly giants. Then, he might really be a son of Asgard.

 

They slept peacefully that night, given the circumstances. Loki wondered whether he ought to be more disturbed that Thor was killing what was, in all deeply-buried truthfulness, Loki’s kin. He probably shouldn’t feel too badly, considering what was ahead, and the way Thor cuddled next to him as they lay, magically warmed, in the soft snow. Thor would find out that his brother was a half-brother soon; Loki could not lie to himself so well as to ignore that. It was hard to imagine Thor turning his back on him, or worse, considering all they had been through. But it was not impossible. When Loki awoke, it was grudgingly. 

 

He knew that it would be different for Thor. The call of battle was loud, now; it plugged up his ears like the howling wind, which had returned in full now that the morning had asserted itself, and, worryingly, it made it more difficult for him to listen to Loki. 

 

He spoke loudly and loose-lipped as they once more set off for the day. “I feel great, Loki. The time has come, and all of my worrying was for naught.”

 

“We did everything right, Thor,” Loki assured him, though it was rather empty. “We took the time, we grew stronger, we got you Mjolnir, and there’s no reason why we can’t finish what we started.” His tone was effortlessly bright.

 

Thor practically skipped along, ahead of Loki, playing with Vali as they traveled forward at a pace they hadn’t kept up since they were young and fresh-legged back in Asgard. He was quiet, but his silence held a wild joy. Loki couldn’t help but love him like this. 

 

When Thor looked back at him, it was with the conviction of a saint. “Are you ready to be a hero, brother?”

 

Loki blushed, and it made him feel warmer than he’d like. “I never thought of myself as that.”

 

“But you will.”

 

“I’m not sure. I don’t think I’ll ever feel… worthy of it. No matter what I do.”

 

“You’re wrong, Loki.” His grin was growing larger and larger.

 

It was contagious, so it seemed. “Doesn’t matter. You’re going to be the one to kill him. You’re much more suited to that.”

 

“Maybe so,” admitted Thor, “but you’re the one who had this idea. You’re the one who fixed me up well enough so that I could be here. You’re the one who got us through five realms, completely unscathed. Does it really matter who lands the final blow?”

 

“I suppose not.”

 

“You’re a hero, Loki. Already. To me, if not to anybody else.”

 

The warmth in Loki’s veins was growing unbearable. “I’d prefer that any day.”

 

He would, of course, because he was completely, utterly horrified as to whether he would be capable of killing his own father. He might seize up. He might be overcome with rage and attack him with all the ferocity he could muster at first sight. He did not trust himself to determine which it would be. The only wise choice was to leave it to Thor.

 

“Wait… Loki, I think I see something.”

 

Loki’s blood turned to hot lead. “It’s more of them, isn’t it? They must’ve figured out that the last two weren’t coming back.”

 

“Yes, that’s it. It’s fine. I’ll make quick work of them and we’ll be off once more.” With that convincingly calm response, Thor sprung forward, and Loki heard the cracking of ice before he saw it. He heard Vali growl and rip into an ankle. And he heard the dying screams (though they were more like the sound of glaciers calving than screams) of the giants as Thor felled them.

 

There were five. He could tell, though his eyes were squeezed shut, because he felt it - that sap of power, the increase in feral heat in his bones - each time the light of their lives was extinguished.

 

He gritted his teeth. His secrets were multiplying. He put on a grateful face for Thor. “You’re incredible,” he said truthfully.

 

“Come on,” Thor exclaimed, ignoring the compliment and leading the way forward with Vali at his side. 

 

Why did Jotunheim have to be their smoothest and easiest realm to traverse? Maybe that was the wrong question. Maybe what Loki should’ve been asking himself was how he had doubted himself and Thor so effectively. Loki was a child of this place, and Thor would rise to the occasion no matter the danger if it meant protecting Loki. It was embarrassing that Asgard’s armies had failed so spectacularly. 

 

Those were mortals, though. And Loki was beginning to wonder whether Thor was. It was very difficult to feel too upset about one’s own race being slaughtered when it was at the hands of someone he loved as much as Thor. It was a hopeless love.

 

By Loki’s estimation, it would be a week’s walk to the palace, which, like Asgard, was at the very center of the realm. The map he’d brought from home was surprisingly complete, much more so than Muspelheim or Nidavellir, which, in the past, had always confounded Loki. Now he knew why, and by whom, Jotunheim had been so well-understood. So the journey wasn’t long, and there was no question as to whether it would be challenging. One week, and their long journey would be complete.

 

A week. A week’s worth of death; a week’s worth of Loki dying a little more inside each time the love of his life killed again. At the end of it all, which was something Loki tried not to think about, yet he failed every time: if he was this drained by the death of random giants, how might Laufey’s death affect him?

 

Always, always, he quelled that worry the same way. Thor would be beside him. Thor would restore him, would fix however much broke inside of Loki. If only Loki surrendered his ties to half of himself.

 

The week, of course, flew by. Loki’s eyes were opened. Jotunheim was a beauty of the sort one couldn’t ignore, even if they’d thought themselves opposed to such an attraction. The ice rose in natural sculptures dotting the landscape in higher and higher density as they approached the palace. Loki, always so fond of trees and greenery and the smell of tilled earth, found that he stopped missing it. The ice formed trees of its own. They were clearer and purer than Loki’s familiar friends were after an ice storm. He reminisced. 

 

And he no longer needed any of the warmth of his spell, so he transferred it all to Thor. Without its stifling claustrophobia, he felt exposed to the elements in the best way. If it weren’t for the blood Thor so eagerly spilled, Loki knew he would feel more powerful than ever.

 

Clearly, that was the case for Thor as it was. He was in such good spirits lately. 

 

“I can feel it, Loki. We’re close.” 

 

It was an obvious statement. They could see the palace in full view. According to Thor, it looked eerily similar to Asgard’s, though in blue rather than gold.

 

“Are you ready?” Loki asked.

 

“Yes,” Thor answered. Not  _ as much as I’ll ever be _ , but yes. 

 

“I love you, Thor.”

 

“And I you.”

 

Loki paused, and slowed his feet. “I don’t want what happens in there to change us.”

 

Thor looked back at him and stopped. “Why would it?”

 

“I don’t know. I suppose… just because it’ll be over,” Loki lied. Still, the lie was a warning. It held too much truth. “Because we’ll have to figure out what comes next.”

 

“I’m not too worried.”

 

“I am.”

 

Thor’s face fell. “Why? The Jotuns will surrender once Laufey is gone, I’m sure of it. Is it  Freyja? Or Odin?”

 

“Yes. That’s some of it.” 

 

“It’ll be great, Loki,” Thor assured him, though it was somewhat unconvincing. “She won’t have any reason to hate you anymore. You will have saved me. You will have saved us all.”

 

Loki shrugged; some of his hair fell on his face, but he ignored it, appreciative of the way it hid the fear in his eyes. “What of us, though?”

 

“We’ll keep it secret. You’re great at that, aren’t you?”

 

“I don’t want to have to keep it a secret.”

 

“Neither do I. Someday, we won’t have to.” He stepped closer to Loki and brushed the hair from his face. He recoiled slightly when he found it to be colder than it should’ve been, given the spell, but said nothing of it. “Is this truly what worries you, Loki?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He moved his hand to Loki’s shoulder and squeezed it; a threat disguised as affection. “No, it’s not. I can hear it when you lie to me, brother. You know this.” 

 

“I just know that everything is going to change. And I’m afraid. I don’t know what of.” He pulled Thor into a hug. Let him feel the chill. He would understand its origin soon enough.

 

“You don’t have to be afraid, Loki,” Thor whispered into his ear. “You know that I will do anything for you.”

 

“Anything?”

 

“Anything.”

 

Loki stroked the muscles of Thor’s back. “Can you promise me? Can you prove it?”

 

“I promise you. Now and forever.”

 

Loki kissed him.

 

* * *

 

They were there. A single giant approached them. The creature was as tall as all the others and as fierce. It was unarmed, though, unlike Thor. Loki could feel the coiled energy in his brother. Vali stood, hackles raised, between them.

 

“You know what we’re here for,” said Thor.

 

Loki remained silent. The way the giant looked at him, he knew that it knew exactly who he was, just like all the others. He hoped Thor wouldn’t murder it, at least not yet.

 

“Yes,” it replied. “I will take you to King Laufey. If you attack us, we will not hesitate to bring our full might against you. Even you will not be able to kill us all.”

 

Thor nodded. “I accept your terms.”

 

“Then we shall go.”

  
  



	32. interlude viii

Odin opened his eyes. Something had changed.

 

Freyja sat, stony-faced, beside him on the wide, golden-sheeted bed. It was impossible to tell how long she had been there, or if she knew his Odinsleep had been intentional. Controllable. Restorative, yes, but not accidental. It ended once it needed to. Not a minute after.

 

“Odin,” she said quietly. She was staring into the darkness. The lamp on the bedside table glowed softly, making her dark hair shine like it was made of rubies. 

 

“My love,” he replied.

 

Her jaw set. Her hands gripped her thighs through the black fabric of her dress. She looked different than he remembered her. “It’s over. He is lost.”

 

Odin did not let himself react, though he knew what her words meant. “He is dead.”

 

“No.” Her voice began to quiver. “Not dead.”

 

“Somebody is dead,” Odin argued, sitting up. She was in black. That could not be the result of Laufey or Loki’s death, which both would be met with unbridled joy. Neither could it be Heimdall. He had been bereft for long enough. 

 

“Many of our soldiers, yes.”

 

“That is no news. Speak clearly, wife.”

 

She was struggling to hold her voice steady. “I went to Muspelheim. I found them.”

 

“You what?” Odin’s anger was growing. He had not awoken for a story, nor an account of her failures. She held the answer. He was not a mind-reader.

 

“Yes. I found them. Before they escaped into Jotunheim.”

 

Odin stopped breathing. With the force of a mountain moving, Freyja finally drew her gaze over to him. She looked like she was only mourning herself.

 

He knew it was hard for her, but he saw her remembering that they had loved each other once, perhaps very long ago. She swallowed and laid down next to him, putting a hand above his lungs, feeling how they were stuck, immobile. He let her. He bore little affection in return, anymore, but now, he knew it had its use.

 

“That’s not all,” she murmured. “I saw something else. Something that will haunt me to the end of my days.”

 

Her fingernails dug into his chest.

 

“They…” she swallowed. “I saw them… embracing. Kissing. As lovers do.” She burst into tears.

 

All of Odin’s fears came true.

 

Before he could succumb to them, there was a banging at the door. “Enter,” he said stiffly, pulling himself into a more respectable position.

 

It was Heimdall, wide-eyed and reeling. “It’s back,” he panted. “My vision. It’s back.”

 

“Wh-what? Why?” Freyja sputtered.

 

“What did you see?” Odin demanded simultaneously.

 

“Your-your sons. They’re with Laufey. H-he spoke to me.  _ To me _ . He said this was a gift.” He was shaking like Odin had never seen. He was normally so collected.

 

“A gift.”

 

“For you, my lord.”

 

“Of course,” said Freyja, exasperated. “He wants us to see. So we can suffer even more. Is there no end to his cruelty?”

 

Odin closed his eyes. “No. There is not.”


	33. Chapter 33

The palace was deserted. No soldiers, nor guards, nor politicians, nor Jotuns of any kind, besides the one escorting them. Loki wondered whether he had lied about their forces, or if they would only come out once Thor did whatever Thor was about to do. Loki had vanished Vali out of respect. His sort of unrestrained vigor was out of place here.

 

The very walls, however, seemed alive. Loki marveled at the endless beauty of their architecture, the ornamentation covering everything, the way it seemed to move every time he looked away. When the resource that makes up everything in a realm is endlessly abundant and regenerative, Loki supposed, there is no reason to limit its artfulness.

 

The palace was not large, though. They approached the doors to the throne room, which were even more ornately carved than anything in Nidavellir had been. Thor and Loki stood waiting before them, the brothers in polar opposite tempers. The giant that had let them here had not disarmed Thor. His threat of matching violence with violence had so far gone untested; Thor had behaved himself. Loki… Loki wasn’t sure what he was about to do.

 

The giant spoke clearly. “Sire, they are here.”

 

As if enchanted, the doors swung open. The giant left them.

 

The king looked exactly like Loki had imagined him to. Imposing, in an addictive way. Bare of chest, a loincloth draped lazily over his lap, and on his horned brow, the largest crown Loki had ever seen. The effect was terrifying in how out of place it seemed.

 

Before Loki could say a word, Thor sprinted forward towards the king.

 

The distance between them was not great and Thor reached him before Loki could shout  _ no!  _ Everything froze in his mind; he watched idly as it all moved in slow motion: Thor raised Mjolnir, Laufey simply smiled. This didn’t seem right. It couldn’t be this easy. Should it be this easy? Should the fate of the realms be decided so deftly? No. No, that couldn’t be. It was not right to kill before it was determined exactly why the killing needed to happen.

 

And, truth be told, Loki could not stomach watching his brother kill his father. Not without Thor knowing the truth. 

 

He grimaced, hoping he would not regret this, and uttered a spell to protect Laufey, a bubble around him so that Thor could not touch him. Thor let his blows rain down upon the force field, crying out in frustration, sure that Laufey himself had been the one to do this.

 

Loki could hardly watch it. He needed it to stop, so that they could talk. Out of his throat came another spell, which restrained Thor’s arms behind him, too; Mjolnir hung helplessly from his frozen hand at the small of his back. He looked back at Loki. 

 

“Wh-why?” He was trying to wrestle free from the spell, but to no avail.

 

“Thor… I have to tell you something.”

 

Laufey cackled; it sounded like icicles falling to the ground. He was evidently impressed that Loki cared so much to protect him. “Yes,  _ Thor _ , he does. You never told him, Loki did you?” He spoke slowly, as if he had all the time in the world to get the words out.

 

“I couldn’t.” His voice had shot up an octave in trepidation.

 

“No,” Laufey agreed. “He would’ve left you, then, wouldn’t he have? Killed you? He could not stomach that kind of betrayal, I am sure. He is his father’s son.” His positioning on the throne changed. He sat forward, interested in seeing how this played out.

 

Loki slowly walked forward to where Thor stood, immobile. He had stopped trying to break free. Loki ran his hand over his shoulder to his neck. This felt… so different. Being the better one, for once. Having power over Thor. Captivating him, physically, not with his words, or sexually, but taking what Thor had and using it against him. Loki never would have expected it to feel so good.

 

“Thor,” he said, looking into his brother’s eyes, “It’s time that you know. I lied to you. I am not only an Odinson.”

 

“You are. I know you are.”

 

Loki’s hand on him gripped harder. “You misunderstand me, Thor. I am the son of  _ two _ kings. Your father made a grave mistake. I am Laufeyson.”

 

“No. No,” Thor argued, shaking his head, unwilling to accept what Loki had said. “He’s poisoning your mind, Loki. He is putting lies into it. He can’t have… have had you! It’s not possible. You are a bastard, Loki, but not  _ his _ !”

 

In unison, they both looked up at Laufey. He was beginning to grin. “He speaks the truth, Odinson. A hundred years ago, your father made a grave mistake. He was bored with your mother. He thought himself above her. I was his only match.”

 

Thor licked his lips, he was sputtering; his world was imploding, and he could do nothing but stand by and watch it go. “So… so you… you started this war? It’s all because of Loki?”

 

Loki wasn’t sure why he felt so calm. He let go of Thor and folded his hands behind his back. “Odin took me. He wanted me for himself. He put me away, because Freyja wouldn’t have me. She could not bear to raise Laufey’s progeny. You know this, Thor.” Loki felt righteous, like this was the only outcome, like this was something he should have done long ago, the only thing that could ever wash his conscience clean. 

 

“I know you’d said that. I believed you,” Thor pleaded. “I just… I never thought it was like this. You knew the whole time, didn’t you? How could you do this to me?” His confusion was turning to anger. He stared at Laufey, willing his hatred to harm him when his hammer could not.

 

Loki should have been crushed by Thor’s anguish. But he only felt validated. “I couldn’t tell you, Thor. Laufey is right. You would have killed me, or taken me back to Odin. I loved you too much. The truth would have driven us apart. I was not strong enough to tell it.”

 

“I…” he swallowed.

 

“You wouldn’t have had it any other way, would you?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Was our love worth it to you?”

 

Thor paused. He finally stopped looking at Laufey and met Loki’s eyes. “Yes. Yes, it was.”

 

Despite himself, Loki smiled. “It was for me, too. But is it anymore?”

 

Thor left the question unanswered.

 

“So what will you do, Loki?” Laufey laughed. “Will you kill me? Do you truly think that you can?”

 

“Yes,” Thor spat.

 

“I did not ask you,” said Laufey.

 

Loki took a deep breath. He didn’t know. He was torn between two lives, split apart by twinned loves, loyalties he could not reconcile with each other. “I cannot kill you. I don’t think I can allow Thor to kill you. It wouldn’t be right.”

 

Thor started to argue and Loki saw his rage turn to a new target, and once more, he tried to break free of his magical bonds. For a moment, he saw his brother lunging not at Laufey, but at Loki himself, and Loki’s fear spiked when it almost looked like he would shatter the chains.

 

But then, he stopped. He looked twice as torn as Loki was. He’d said it before, and evidently it hadn’t changed. He wanted whatever Loki wanted. He was not a liar.

 

Laufey interrupted their moment. “Know this, child. I restored Heimdall’s sight. Lifted the spell. Now, Odin and Freyja can see you. It is important that he watches what happens here. It will affect the state of all the realms for untold ages.”

 

“You did that?” Thor bellowed, ripped from his defeated trance. Loki could hear it in his voice. He knew what this meant: Laufey had been the reason Thor could leave his parents in the first place. How could he possibly regret that?

 

Laufey spoke quietly, ignoring Thor entirely, now, and his words carried the weight of the world. “Join me, my son.”

 

A metamorphosis stirred within Loki. One he had no hope of halting. He had done so much wrong in his short life; he represented so much that was wrong. Could he truly do right by embracing Odin’s mistakes? Could he speak anything, here, and have it be truth? 

 

It didn’t matter. The truth had been told, and it had been decided irrelevant. Only one choice could be undone. Death was immovable, life was not. Loki could not give up his once chance at continued influence.

 

Laufey was already smiling. Loki shifted his face to match.

 

“Father,” he said. “I will join you.”

 

“No!” shouted Thor. “No, Loki! Why?”

 

It was too late. Loki stepped forward, towards his father, and what he thought was merely an internal change began to manifest across his body. Thor watched in horror as his skin paled until it looked almost transparent; it did not stay like this for long, because he was not dying, but being embraced by the beauty of Jotunheim. He stared down at his hands as they grew icy ridges and turned the deepest blue. Loki was not afraid of this transformation. He was watching it in awe.

 

“I am proud.” Laufey’s booming voice echoed across the throne room. 

 

Loki ignored him. This was a moment for him and Thor. Thor, who he had loved so much, and hated so much, but now he felt a  _ different  _ sort of love, a type that wanted to control rather than protect, tame rather than free. He had seen what Thor was like under his unmitigated desires. Thor was an animal. A dog, like Vali, but a dog that had attacked somebody viciously, and was too dangerous to let wander around unchained. 

 

He would not stop the spell keeping Thor warm. He did not want Thor to die. He wanted respect, not blood. Thor’s mouth hung open, in shock, and Loki wondered how difficult it was for him not to try and swing his hammer up into Loki’s skull and end this forever. Perhaps... the easiest thing in the world.

 

Loki approached his brother carefully. Thor was trembling. 

 

“Brother… how could you… why?” he begged. The tears welling in his eyes grew too great, and they spilled over, hitting the floor and burning angry holes in the ice. No matter. It would regenerate, as Loki had.

 

Loki could not answer. He would speak of it, someday, but not now, not with his father here, not with Odin watching. He extended one of his beautiful hands and stroked Thor’s cheek with some potent mixture of affection and newfound antipathy. In an instant, the skin turned red and inflamed with the beginnings of frostbite. Thor fell to the ground.

 

Loki left him, and Laufey put a hand on his shoulder and gripped it; such a fatherly action for one who had just met his son. “What do you wish to do, Loki?”

 

“Put him in the dungeons. I have ideas that cannot be carried out if he is dead.” A lie only in words.

 

Laufey smiled once more. “You are clever, my boy. I confess that I did, too.”

 

He turned his head towards the ceiling, as if speaking to someone on an imaginary mezzanine. “Do you hear that, Odin? We are showing your son  _ mercy _ . He will be safe in our dungeons. Until which time you make a decision on what you wish to do about this endless war. Only you can end the violence. Loki and I will show you the way.”

 

Loki nodded and sealed Thor’s lips with a spell, because he was fearful of what might come out of that mouth. Thor struggled against it, but Loki put on an apologetic look and gazed into his eyes as if to say  _ I don’t really mean this, play along until I get us out of it. _ Perhaps he did mean that. He needed to think on it.

 

While he was doing that, however, he could have a little fun. “Father,” he said curtly. “May Thor be my prize?”

 

A war prize. It seemed fitting. If Loki had been the war’s cause, Thor could be its reward.

 

Laufey stroked his hair, which hadn’t changed during Loki’s transformation; still it hung gracefully in a bun on the base of his neck. “Of course, Loki. You may have whatever you wish.”

 

There were many wishes buried deeply inside of Loki. For quite some while, he had silenced them. He couldn’t do that anymore. It did not befit a trueborn prince.

 

* * *

 

Laufey and Loki led Thor down to the dungeons once it was overt. It grew colder and colder as they descended; though Thor was still protected from it, Loki felt more powerful as the chill became overwhelming. This form was an improvement on his normal one, he thought. He wished very much to find a mirror. No doubt he would look more beautiful. He did not think he’d taken on the appearance of the Jotun in full, but only bits and pieces of their anatomy, and most of all, he was sure he still looked like  _ him _ . He didn’t think he could live with no longer looking like himself.

 

He was grateful that he had sealed Thor’s lips, for he would certainly be cursing his captor right now.

 

The dungeons were bright and clean and looked nothing like dungeons, except for the icicle bars separating the prisoners from the hall. Or they would be if there had been any prisoners. Loki didn’t think the Jotuns often captured Asgardians; they were much more fond of simply killing them, as obtaining food for Asgardians to eat here was a fairly tall order.

 

Thor was given one of the larger ones, on Loki’s request. He was ruthlessly stuffed inside of it, pain in his eyes, and before Laufey could ask if Loki wished to stay and say a few words to his half-brother, he hightailed it back upstairs. He supposed it was time for them to have a father-son moment. Moment, or better said, reckoning.

 

They traveled quietly back to the throne room. But Laufey did not sit upon the high chair as he had when they entered the first time.

 

“Sit, my son,” he said.

 

Loki tried not to look surprised, but did as he was told. He could feel his strange Asgardian clothing sticking to the ice. He would need to change into something more suitable later.

 

“It is time we discussed our plans. As you know, together there is no doubt we can crush Odin. But we must still decide how.”

 

That sounded good to Loki, actually. Now that he was here, and Laufey was being nothing but kind to him, it was difficult to feel anything but hatred towards his other father, who had beaten him down and left him despondent for nearly all of his life. “We should use Thor,” he said. “It would be a double victory, father. He must be broken. I want him to  _ desire _ to do our bidding. The grief of losing him forever would drive Odin to his end.” 

 

That was pretty dark, Loki admitted, but Laufey seemed to enjoy the theatrics.

 

“You have echoed precisely my thoughts. I do not think simply killing Odin is worthy punishment. He punished us for a hundred years. He should not be given the mercy of death until that time has passed, if not double it.”

 

“How will we do it?”

 

“ _ We  _ will not do anything. You will.” 

 

“I…” Loki trailed off. “Can you take away Heimdall’s sight once more? Until I am finished?”

 

Laufey’s ridged eyebrows drew together slightly. “I can. I will not pretend to understand why you wish for it, but Loki, please know that I will do anything for you. Within me is the aggregated love of a hundred years. I intend on showing you all of it.”

 

Loki relaxed. “And me to you, father.” 

 

“When do you wish me to take it away once more?”

 

“Tomorrow. Let them see his hunger for a night. Tomorrow, I will begin.” Loki smiled. It was a real one.

 

* * *

 

Loki was given his own room and free reign over the palace. Hel, if he had wanted control over all of Jotunheim’s armies, he would have been given it. But war was not his place. The only wars he could ever fight were wars of the mind. And he was presently preparing for one of those.

 

So long ago, he had committed to breaking Thor. Once, that had simply meant unleashing all of his buried power and magic, but now that Loki had seen his brother in that frenzied, enraged state, he wasn’t sure how much he liked it, since his targets seemed so hastily chosen and changed. It seemed far too easy for him to turn on Loki, given the chance. He would have done it in the throne room, had not Loki beaten him to it.

 

The important thing for Loki to remember was that he was still carrying out what he had always wanted to do. He was still trying to break Thor, only in a different way. Enough so that he would never have to worry whether Thor was a wild animal or his endlessly loyal pet. That was the kind of love Loki now wanted. The kind with no need for fear.

 

He knew what Thor needed, his loosed love and easy affection. Loki needed it too, of course, but he could control himself better than Thor had ever been able to. Thor was being deprived. Loki would be his reprieve.

 

This was decided as Loki lounged about in the room given to him. First, he had changed into a wardrobe more suited for a prince. Black skins and white pelts from the bears that terrorized the south of the realm. An emerald-green cape of a velvet only found in Asgard. And the plundered jewels of all the realms Jotunheim had ever conquered, however briefly. He may have been more covered up than his father, but what he wore meant more than his skin did, especially when it was so different already than it had been before he’d accepted his fate.

 

The room was comfortable by Jotun standards, he was sure. It was a little more bare than he would have gotten as a prince in Asgard. But it had a mirror, and Loki was feeling vain.

 

It was not truly a mirror, but a piece of ice so flat and polished that it reflected better than the tiny, dusty one Loki’d had in his cabin. Before he had dressed, he gazed into it until he accepted what he saw.

 

He was still, unmistakably him. More him than before, even. This was the best ending he could have hoped for.


End file.
